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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Gift  of 
Ephraim  Kahn 


BRACEBR1DGE  HALL, 


OR 


BY 


GEOFFREY  CRAYON,  GENT. 


Under  this  cloud  1  walk,  Gentlemen.  I  am  a  traveller,  who,  having 
surveyed  most  of  the  terrestrial  angles  of  this  globe,  am  hithf  r  arri 
ved,  to  peruse  this  little  spot. 

CHRISTMAS  ORDINARY. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  II. 


NEW- YORK: 

PRINTED  BY  C.  S.  VAN  WINKLE, 
No.  101  Greenwich  Street. 

1822. 


Southern  District  of  New-  York,  ss. 


BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  that  on  the  ninth  day  of  May,  in  tf 
sixth  vear  of  th«  Independence  of  the    United  SU"tp«  01    Americ 


in  the  forty- 
a  C.  S- 


Van  "vVinkie,  of  the  said  district,  hath  deposited  in  this  office  the  tiLc  of 
a  hook,  the  right  whereof  he  claims  as  proprietor,  in  the  words  following, 
to  wit: 

"  Bracebridge  Hall,  or  the  Humourists.  A  Medley,  by  Geoffrey  Cray 
on,  Gent.  '  Under  this  cloud  I  walk,  gentlemen.  I  am  a  traveller,  who, 
having  surveyed  most  of  the  terrestrial  Angles  of  this  globe,  am  hith-  r  ar- 
rivexi,  to  peruse  this  little  spot.' — Christmas  Ordinary  In  two  volumes. 
Vol.  II." 

IN  CONFORMITY  to  the  act  of  t\te  Congress  of  the  United  States  entitled, 
'*  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of 
maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the,  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies, 
during  the  times  therein  mentioned;"  and  also,  to  an  act.  entitled,  "  An 
ad  supplementary  to  an  art,  entitled,  an  act  for  the  encouragement  of 
lean'iir:!>.  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  arid  books,  to  the  au 
thors  nnd  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned, 
and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and 
etching  historical  and  other  prints." 

JAMES  DILL, 
Clerk  of  the  Southern  District  of  New- York. 


CONTENTS. 


English  Country  Gentlemen, 9 

A  Bachelor's  Confessions, 23 

English  Gravity, 31 

Gipsies, 42 

May-Day  Customs, 51 

Village  Worthies, 60 

The  Schoolmaster, .     65 

The  School, 75 

Popular  Superstitions, 81 

A  Village  Politician, 100 

Travelling, 109 

May-day, 121 

The  Manuscript, 139 

Annette  Delarbre, 143 

Th    Culprit, 188 

The  Historian, 202 

The  Haunted  House,     205 

Dolph  Heyliger, 213 

The  Wedding 337 


ENGLISH 
COUNTRY   GENTLEMEN. 


His  certain  life,  that  never  can  deceive  him, 
Is  full  of  thousand  sweets,  and  rich  content ; 

The  smooth-leav'd  beeches  in  the  field  receive  him 
With  coolest  shade,  till  noon-tide's  heat  be  spent. 

His  life  is  neither  tost  in  boist'rous  seas, 

Or  the  vexatious  world,  or  lost  in  slothful  ease. 

Pleas'd  and  full  blest  he  lives,  when  he  his  God  can  please. 

PHINEAS  FLETCHER. 


I  TAKE  great  pleasure  in  accompanying  the 
Squire  in  his  perambulations  about  his  estate, 
in  which  he  is  often  attended  by  a  kind  of  cabinet 
council.  His  prime  minister,  the  steward,  is  a 
very  worthy  and  honest  old  man,  and  one  of  those 
veteran  retainers  that  assume  a  right  of  way ; 
that  is  to  say,  a  right  to  have  his  own  way,  from 
having;  lived  time  out  of  mind  on  the  place.  He 
loves  the  estate  even  better  than  he  does  the 

VOL.  II.  2 


10     ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN.. 

Squire,  and  thwarts  the  latter  sadly  in  many  of 
his  projects  of  improvement  and  alteration.  In 
deed,  the  old  man  is  a  little  apt  to  oppose  every 
plan  that  does  not  originate  with  himself,  and 
will  hold  long  arguments  about  it,  over  a  stile, 
or  on  a  rise  of  ground,  until  the  Squire,  who  has 
a  high  opinion  of  his  ability  and  integrity,  is  fain 
to  give  up  the  point.  Such  concession  imme 
diately  mollifies  the  old  steward ;  and  it  often  hap 
pens,  that  after  walking  a  field  or  two  in  silence 
with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  chewing  the  cud 
of  reflection,  he  will  suddenly  observe,  that  "  he 
has  been  turning  the  matter  over  in  his  mind, 
and,  upon  the  whole,  he  thinks  he  will  take  his 
honour's  advice." 

Christy,  the  huntsman,  is  another  of  the  Squire's 
frequent  attendants  to  whom  he  continually  re 
fers,  in  matters  of  local  history,  as  to  a  chroni 
cle  of  the  estate,  having  been  in  a  manner  ac 
quainted  with  many  of  the  trees  from  the  very 
time  that  they  were  acorns.  Old  Nimrod,  as  I 
have  already  shown,  is  rather  pragmatical  on  all 
these  points  of  knowledge  upon  which  he  values 


ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN.  11 

himself;  but  the  Squire  never  contradicts  him  ; 
and  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  indulgent  po 
tentates  that  was  ever  hen-pecked  by  his  minis 
ters.  He  often  laughs  about  it  himself,  and  evi 
dently  yields  to  these  old  men  in  compliance 
with  the  bent  of  his  own  humour  ;  he  likes  this 
honest  independence  of  old  age,  for  with  all  his 
aristocratical  feelings  there  is  nothing  that  dis 
gusts  him  sooner  than  any  appearance  of  fawn 
ing  or  servility. 

I  really  have  seen  no  display  of  royal  state 
that  could  compare  with  one  of  the  Squire's 
progresses  about  his  paternal  fields,  and  through 
his  hereditary  woodlands,  with  several  of  these 
faithful  adherents  about  him,  and  followed  by  a 
body  guard  of  dogs.  He  encourages  a  frank 
ness  and  manliness  of  deportment  among  his 
dependants,  and  is  the  personal  friend  of  his 
tenants ;  inquiring  into  their  concerns,  and  as 
sisting  them  in  times  of  difficulty  and  hardship. 
This  has  rendered  him  one  of  the  most  popular, 
and,  of  course,  one  of  the  happiest  of  land 
lords. 


12     ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN. 

Indeed,  I  do  not  know  a  more  enviable  condi 
tion  of  life  than  that  of  an  English  gentleman 
of  sound  judgment  and  good  feelings,  who  passes 
the  greater  part  of  his  time  on  an  hereditary  es 
tate  in  the  country.  From  the  excellence  of  the 
roads,  and  the  rapidity  and  exactness  of  the  pub 
lic  conveyances,  he  is  enabled  to  command  all 
the  comforts  and  conveniences,  all  the  intelli 
gence  and  novelties  of  the  capital ;  while  he  is 
removed  from  its  hurry  and  distractions.  He 
has  ample  means  of  occupation  and  amusement 
within  his  own  domains ;  he  may  diversify  his 
time  by  rural  occupations  ;  by  rural  sports ;  by 
study,  and  by  the  delights  of  friendly  society 
collected  within  his  own  hospitable  halls. 

Or  if  his  views  and  feelings  are  of  a  more  ex 
tensive  and  liberal  nature,  he  has  it  greatly  in  his 
power  to  do  good,  and  to  have  that  good  imme 
diately  reflected  back  upon  himself.  He  can 
render  essential  service  to  his  country,  by  as 
sisting  in  the  disinterested  administration  of  the 
laws;  by  watching  over  the  opinions  and  prin 
ciples  of  the  lower  orders  around  him ;  by  dif- 


ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN.      13 

fusing  among  them  those  lights  which  may  be 
important  to  their  welfare ;  by  mingling  frankly 
among  them ;  gaining  their  confidence ;  be 
coming  the  immediate  auditor  of  their  com 
plaints  ;  informing  himself  of  their  wants  ;  mak 
ing  himself  a  channel  through  which  their  griev 
ances  may  be  quietly  communicated  to  the  pro 
per  sources  of  mitigation  and  relief;  or  by 
becoming,  if  need  be,  the  intrepid  and  incor 
ruptible  guardian  of  their  liberties,  the  enlight 
ened  champion  of  their  rights. 

All  this,  it  appears  to  me,  can  be  done  without 
any  sacrifice  of  personal  dignity ;  without  any 
degrading  arts  of  popularity  ;  without  any  truck 
ling  to  vulgar  prejudices,  or  concurrence  in  vul 
gar  clamour  ;  but  by  the  steady  influence  of  sin 
cere  and  friendly  council ;  of  fair,  upright,  and 
generous  deportment.  Whatever  may  be  said  of 
English  mobs  and  English  demagogues,  I  have 
never  met  with  a  people  more  open  to  reason  ; 
more  considerate  in  their  tempers  ;  more  tracta 
ble  by  argument  in  the  roughest  times,  than  the 
English*  They  are  remarkably  quick  at  dis- 


14     ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN. 

cerning  and  appreciating  whatever  is  manly  and 
honourable.     They  are  by  nature  and  habit  me 
thodical  and  orderly,  and  feel  the  value  of  all 
that  is  regular  and  respectable.     They  may  oc 
casionally  be  deceived  by  sophistry,  and  excited 
into  turbulence  by  public  distresses  and  the  mis 
representations  of  designing  men  ;  but.  open  their 
eyes,  and  they  will  eventually  rally  round  the 
landmarks  of  steady  truth  and  deliberate   good 
sense.     They  are  fond  of  established  customs ; 
they  are  fond  of  long  established  names ;  and 
that  love  of  order  and  quiet  which  characterizes 
the  nation,  gives  a  vast  influence  to  the  descend 
ants  of  the  old  families,  whose  forefathers  have 
been  lords  of  the  soil  from  time  immemorial. 

It  is  when  the  rich,  and  well  educated,  and 
highly  privileged  classes  neglect  their  duties  ; 
when  they  neglect  to  study  the  interests,  and 
conciliate  the  affections,  and  instruct  the  opi 
nions,  and  champion  the  rights  of  the  people, 
that  the  latter  become  discontented  and  turbu 
lent,  and  fall  into  the  hands  of  demagogues. 
The  demagogue  always  steps  in  where  the  pa- 


ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN.      15 

triot  is  wanting.  There  is  a  common  high 
handed  cant,  among  high  feeding,  and,  as  they 
fancy  themselves,  high  minded  men,  about  put 
ting  down  the  mob — but  all  true  physicians 
know  that  it  is  better  to  sweeten  the  blood  than 
to  attack  the  tumour ;  to  apply  the  emollient 
rather  than  the  cautery. 

It  is  absurd  in  a  country  like  England,  where 
there  is  so  much  freedom,  and  such  a  jealousy 
of  right,  for  any  man  to  assume  an  aristocrati- 
cal  tone,  and  to  talk  superciliously  of  the  com 
mon  people.  There  is  no  rank  that  makes  him 
independent  of  the  opinion  and  affections  of  his 
fellow  men-;  there  is  no  rank  nor  distinction 
that  severs  him  from  his  fellow  subject ;  and  if 
by  any  gradual  neglect  or  assumption  on  the 
one  side,  and  discontent  and  jealousy  on  the 
other,  the  orders  of  society  should  really  sepa 
rate,  let  those  that  stand  on  the  eminence  be 
ware  that  the  chasm  is  not  mining  at  their  feet. 
The  orders  of  society  in  all  well  constituted 
governments  are  mutually  bound  together,  and 
important  to  each  other ;  there  can  be  no  such 


16      ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN. 

thing  in  a  free  government  as  a  vacuum  ;  and 
wherever  one  is  likely  to  take    place   by  the 
drawing  off  of  the  rich  and  intelligent  from  the 
poor,  the  bad  passions  of  society  will  rush  inr 
to  fill  up  the  space,  and  rend  the  whole  asunder. 
Though  born  and  brought  up  in  a  republic, 
and   more  and   more  confirmed  in   republican 
principles  by  every  year's  observation  and  ex 
perience,  yet  I  am  not  insensible  to  the  excel 
lence  that  may  exist  in  other  forms  of  govern 
ment  ;   nor  to  the  fact  that  they  may  be  more 
suitable  to  the  situation  and  circumstances  of 
the  countries  in  which  they  exist.     I  have  en 
deavoured  rather  to  look  at  them  as  they  are, 
and  to  observe  how  they  are  calculated  to  effect 
the   end   which   they    propose.      Considering, 
therefore,  the  mixed  nature  of  the  government 
of  this  country,  and  its  representative  form,  I 
have  looked  with  admiration  at  the   manner  in 
which  the   wealth,  and   influence,   and  intelli 
gence,  were  spread  over  its  whole  surface;  not, 
as  in  some  monarchies,  drained  from  the  coun 
try,  and  collected  in  towns  and  cities,     I  have 


ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN.      17 

considered  the  great  rural  establishments  of  the 
nobility,  and  the  lesser  establishments  of  the 
gentry,  as  so  many  reservoirs  of  wealth  and  in 
telligence  distributed  about  the  kingdom,  apart 
from  the  towns,  to  irrigate,  freshen,  and  ferti 
lize  the  surrounding  country.  1  have  looked 
upon  them,  too,  as  the  august  retreats  of  patri 
ots  and  statesmen,  where,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
honourable  independence  and  elegant  leisure, 
they  might  train  up  their  minds  to  appear  in 
those  legislative  assemblies,  whose  debates  and 
decisions  form  the  study  and  precedents  of 
other  nations,  and  involve  the  interests  of  the 
world. 

I  have  been  both  surprised  and  disappointed, 
therefore,  at  rinding  that  on  this  subject  I  was 
often  indulging  in  a  Utopian  dream  rather  than 
a  well  grounded  opinion.  I  have  been  concern 
ed  at  finding  that  these  fine  estates  were  too 
often  involved,  and  mortgaged  or  placed  in  the 
hands  of  creditors,  and  the  owners  exiled  from 
their  paternal  lands.  There  is  an  extravagance, 
I  am  told,  that  runs  parallel  with  wealth  ;  a  lavish 

VOL.  ii.  3 


IB      ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN. 

expenditure  among  the  great;  a  senseless  com 
petition  among  the  aspiring;  a  heedless,  joyless 
dissipation  among  all  the  upper  ranks,  that  often 
beggars  even  these  splendid  establishments, 
breaks  down  the  pride  and  principles  of  their 
possessors,  and  makes  too  many  of  them  mere 
place  hunters,  or  shifting  absentees.  It  is  thus 
that  so  many  are  thrown  into  the  hands  of  go 
vernment  ;  and  a  court,  which  ought  to  be  the 
most  pure  and  honourable  in  Europe,  is  so  often 
degraded  by  noble  but  importunate  time-servers. 
It  is  thus,  too,  that  so  many  become  exiles  from 
their  native  land  ;  crowding  the  hotels  of  foreign 
nations,  and  expending  upon  thankless  strangers 
the  wealth  so  hardly  drained  from  their  laborious 
peasantry.  Having,  as  it  were,  their  roots  in  their 
own  country,  but  spreading  forth  their  branches 
and  bearing  their  fruits  in  another.  I  have  look 
ed  upon  these  latter  with  a  mixture  of  censure 
and  concern.  Knowing  the  almost  bigotted 
fondness  of  an  Englishman  for  his  native  home, 
I  can  conceive  what  must  be  their  compunction 
and  regret,  when  they  call  to  mind,  amidst  the 


ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN.      19 

sun-burnt  plains  of  France,  the  green  fields  of 
England ;  the  hereditary  groves  which  they  have 
abandoned ;  the  hospitable  roof  of  their  fathers, 
which  they  have  left  desolate,  or  to  be  inhabited 
by  strangers.  But  retrenchment  is  no  plea  for 
an  abandonment  of  country.  They  have  risen 
with  the  prosperity  of  the  land — let  them  abide  its 
fluctuations,  and  conform  to  its  fortunes.  It  is 
not  for  the  rich  to  draw  off  from  the  country  be 
cause  it  is  suffering.  Let  them  share,  in  their 
relative  proportion,  the  common  lot ;  they  owe 
it  to  the  land  that  has  elevated  them  to  honour 
and  affluence.  When  the  poor  have  to  diminish 
their  scanty  morsel  of  bread ;  when  they  have 
to  compound  with  the  cravings  of  nature,  and 
study  with  how  little  they  can  do,  and  not  be 
starved  ;  it  is  not  then  for  the  rich  to  fly,  and 
diminish  still  farther  the  resources  of  the  poor, 
that  they  themselves  may  live  in  splendour  in  a 
cheaper  country.  Let  them  rather  retire  to  their 
estates,  and  there  practise  retrenchment.  Let 
them  return  to  that  noble  simplicity,  that  practi 
cal  good  sense,  that  honest  pride,  which  form  the 


20  ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN. 

foundation  of  true  English  character,  and  from 
them  they  may  again  rear  the  edifice  of  fair  and 
honourable  prosperity. 

On  the  rural  habits  of  the  English  nobility 
and  gentry — on  the  manner  in  which  .they  dis 
charge  their  duties  on  their  patrimonial  posses 
sions — depend  greatly  the  virtue  and  welfare  of 
the  nation.  So  long  as  they  pass  the  greater 
part  of  their  time  in  the  quiet  and  purity  of  the 
country ;  surrounded  by  the  monuments  of  their 
illustrious  ancestors  ;  surrounded  by  every  thing 
that  can  inspire  generous  pride,  noble  emula 
tion,  and  amiable  and  magnanimous  sentiment, 
so  long  they  are  safe,  and  in  them  the  nation 
may  repose  its  interests  and  its  honour.  But 
the  moment  that  they  become  the  servile  throng- 
ers  of  court  avenues,  and  give  themselves  up  to 
the  political  intrigues  and  heartless  dissipations 
of  the  metropolis,  that  moment  they  lose  the 
real  nobility  of  their  natures,  and  become  the 
mere  leeches  of  the  country. 

That  the  great  majority  of  nobility  and  gen 
try  in  England  are  endowed  with  high  notions 


ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN.      21 

of  honour  and  independence  I  thoroughly  be 
lieve.  They  have  evidenced  it  lately,  on  very 
important  questions  ;  and  have  given  an  exam 
ple  of  adherence  to  principle  in  preference  to 
party  and  power,  that  must  have  astonished 
many  of  the  venal  and  obsequious  courts  of 
Europe.  Such  are  the  glorious  effects  of  free 
dom,  even  when  infused  into  a  constitution.  But 
it  seems  to  me  that  they  are  apt  to  forget  the  po 
sitive  nature  of  their  duties ;  and  to  fancy  that 
their  eminent  privileges  are  only  so  many  means 
of  self  indulgence.  They  should  recollect  that 
in  a  constitution  like  that  of  England,  the  titled 
orders  are  intended  to  be  as  useful  as  they  are 
ornamental ;  and  it  is  their  virtues  alone  that 
can  render  them  both.  Their  duties  are  divided 
between  the  sovereign  and  the  subject;  surround 
ing  and  giving  lustre  and  dignity  to  the  throne, 
and  at  the  same  time  tempering  and  mitigating 
its  rays,  until  they  are  transmitted  in  mild  and 
genial  radiance  to  the  people.  Born  to  leisure 
and  opulence,  they  owe  the  exercise  of  their 
talents  and  the  expenditure  of  their  wealth,  to 


22     ENGLISH  COUNTRY  GENTLEMEN. 

their  native  country.  They  may  be  compared 
to  the  clouds,  which  being  drawn  up  by  the 
sun  and  elevated  in  the  heavens,  reflect  and 
magnify  his  splendour ;  while  they  repay  the 
earth  from  which  they  derive  their  sustenance, 
by  returning  their  treasures  to  its  bosom  in  fer 
tilizing  showers. 


A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS. 


I'll  live  a  private,  pensive,  single  life. 

THE  COLLIER  OF  CROYDON. 


I  WAS  sitting  in  my  room,  a  morning  or  two 
since,  reading,  when  some  one  tapped  at  the 
door,  and  Master  Simon  entered.  He  had  an 
unusually  fresh  appearance ;  he  had  put  on  a 
bright  green  riding  coat,  with  a  bunch  of  vio 
lets  in  the  button  hole,  and  had  the  air  of  an  old 
bachelor  trying  to  rejuvenate  himself.  He  had 
not,  however,  his  usual  briskness  and  vivacity, 
but  loitered  about  the  room  with  somewhat  of 
absence  of  manner,  humming  the  old  song,  "  go 
lovely  rose,  tell  her  that  wastes  her  time  and 
me  ;"  and  then,  leaning  against  the  window,  and 
looking  upon  the  landscape,  he  uttered  a  very  au- 


24  A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS. 

dible  sigh.  As  I  had  not  been  accustomed  to 
see  Master  Simon  in  a  pensive  mood,  I  thought 
there  might  be  some  vexation  preying  on  his 
mind,  and  I  endeavoured  to  introduce  a  cheerful 
strain  of  conversation  ;  but  he  was  not  in  the 
vein  to  follow  it  up,  and  proposed  that  we  should 
take  a  walk.  It  wras  a  beautiful  morning,  of 
that  soft  vernal  temperature  that  seems  to  thaw 
all  the  frost  out  of  one's  blood,  and  to  set  all  na 
ture  in  a  ferment.  The  very  fishes  felt  its  influ 
ence  :  the  cautious  trout  ventured  out  of  his  dark 
hole  to  seek  his  mate ;  the  roach  and  the  dace 
rose  up  to  the  surface  of  the  brook  to  bask  in  the 
sunshine,  and  the  amorous  frog  piped  from  among 
the  rushes.  If  ever  an  oyster  can  really  fall  in 
love,  as  has  been  said  or  sung,  it  must  be  on  such 
a  morning. 

The  weather  certainly  had  its  effect  even  upon 
Master  Simon ;  for  he  seemed  obstinately  bent 
upon  the  pensive  mood.  Instead  of  skipping 
briskly  along,  smacking  his  dog  whip,  whistling 
quaint  ditties,  or  telling  sporting  anecdotes,  he 
leaned  on  my  arm,  and  talked  about  the  ap- 


A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS.  25 

preaching  nuptials ,'  from  whence  he  made  seve 
ral  digressions  upon  the  character  of  women ; 
touched  a  little  upon  the  tender  passion ;  and 
made  sundry  very  excellent,  though  rather  trite, 
observations  upon  disappointments  in  love.  It 
was  evident  that  he  had  something  on  his  mind 
which  he  wished  to  impart,  but  felt  awkward  in 
approaching  it.  I  was  curious  to  see  to  what 
this  strain  would  lead,  but  I  was  determined  not 
to  assist  him.  Indeed,  I  mischievously  pretend 
ed  to  turn  the  conversation,  and  talked  of  his 
usual  topics,  dogs,  horses,  and  hunting ;  but  he 
W7as  very  brief  in  his  replies,  and  invariably  got 
back,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  into  the  sentimental 
vein.  At  length  we  came  to  a  clump  of  trees 
that  overhung  a  whispering  brook,  with  a  rustic 
bench  at  their  feet.  The  trees  were  grievously 
scored  with  letters  and  devices,  which  had  grown 
out  of  all  shape  and  size  by  the  growth  of  the 
bark  ;  and  it  appeared  that  this  grove  had  served 
as  a  kind  of  register  of  the  family  loves  from 
time  immemorial.  Here  Master  Simon  made 
a  pause ;  pulled  up  a  tuft  of  flowers ;  threw 

VOL,  II.  4 


26  A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS. 

them  one  by  one  into  the  water,  and  at  length 
turning  somewhat  abruptly  upon  me,  asked  me 
if  I  had  ever  been  in  love.  I  confess  the  ques 
tion  startled  me  a  little,  as  I  am  not  over  fond  of 
making  confessions  of  my  amorous  follies ;  and, 
above  all,  should  never  dream  of  choosing  my 
friend  Master  Simon  for  a  confidant.  He  did 
not  wait,  however,  for  a  reply  ;  the  inquiry  was 
merely  a  prelude  to  a  confession  on  his  own 
part,  and  after  several  circumlocutions  and  whim 
sical  preambles,  he  fairly  disburdened  himself 
of  a  very  tolerable  story  of  his  having  been  cross 
ed  in  love. 

The  reader  will  very  probably  suppose  that  it 
related  to  the  gay  widow,  who  jilted  him,  not 
long  since,  at  Doncasier  races.  No  such  thing. 
It  was  about  a  sentimental  passion  that  he 
once  had  for  a  most  beautiful  young  lady,  who 
wrote  poetry  and  played  on  the  harp.  He  used 
to  serenade  her,  and  indeed  he  described  several 
tender  and  gallant  scenes,  in  which  he  evidently 
was  picturing  himself,  in  his  mind's  eye,  as  some 
elegant  hero  of  romance ;  though  unfortunately 


A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS.  27 

for  the  tale,  I  only  saw  him  as  he  stood  before 
me,  a  dapper  little  old  bachelor,  with  a  face  like 
an  apple  that  has  dried  with  the  bloom  on  it. 

What  were  the  particulars  of  this  tender  tale, 
I  have  already  forgotten  ;  indeed,  I  listened  to  it 
with  a  heart  like  a  very  pebble  stone ;  having 
hard  work  to  repress  a  smile,  while  Master  Si 
mon  was  putting  on  the  amorous  swain,  uttering 
every  now  and  then  a  sigh,  and  endeavouring  to 
look  sentimental  and  melancholy. 

All  that  I  recollect  is,  that  the  lady,  according 
to  his  account,  was  certainly  a  little  touched, 
for  she  used  to  accept  all  the  music  that  he 
copied  for  her  harp,  and  the  patterns  that  he 
drew  for  her  dresses ;  and  he  began  to  flatter 
himself,  after  a  long  course  of  delicate  attentions, 
that  he  was  gradually  fanning  a  gentle  flame  in 
her  heart,  when  she  suddenly  accepted  the  hand 
of  a  rich  boisterous  fox-hunting  Baronet,  with 
out  either  music  or  sentiment,  who  carried  her 
by  storm  after  a  fortnight's  courtship.  Master 
Simon  could  not  help  concluding  by  some  obser- 


A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS. 


vation,  about  "modest  merit,"  and  the  power 
of  gold  over  the  sex.  As  a  remembrance  of 
his  passion,  he  pointed  out  a  heart  carved  on 
the  bark  of  one  of  the  trees,  but  which  in  the 
process  of  time  had  grown  out  into  a  large 
excrescence ;  and  he  showed  me  a  lock  of  her 
hair,  which  he  wore  in  a  true  lover's  knot,  in  a 
large  gold  brooch. 

J  have  seldom  met  with  an  old  bachelor  that 
had  not,  some  time  or  other,  his  nonsensical  mo 
ment:,  when  he  would  become  tender  and  senti 
mental,  talk  about  the  concerns  of  the  heart, 
and  have  some  confession  of  a  delicate  nature 
to  make.  Almost  every  man  has  some  little 
tract  of  romance  in  his  life  to  which  he  looks 
back  with  fondness,  and  about  which  he  is  apt 
to  grow  garrulous  occasionally.  He  recollects 
himself,  as  he  was  at  the  time,  young  and  game 
some  ;  and  forgets  that  his  hearers  have  no  other 
idea  of  the  hero  of  the  tale,  but  such  as  he  may 
appear  at  the  time  of  telling  it,  peradventure  a 
withered,  whimsical,  spindle-shanked  old  gentle- 


A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS.  29 

men.  With  married  men,  it  is  true,  this  is  not 
so  frequently  the  case ;  their  amorous  romance 
is  apt  to  decline  after  marriage  ;  why,  I  cannot 
for  the  life  of  me  imagine  ;  but  with  a  bachelor, 
though  it  may  slumber,  it  never  dies.  It  is  al 
ways  liable  to  break  out  again  in  transient  flashes, 
and  never  so  much  as  on  a  spring  morning  in  the 
country ;  or  on  a  winter  evening,  when  seated  in 
his  solitary  chamber,  stirring  up  the  fire,  and 
talking  of  matrimony. 

The  moment  that  Master  Simon  had  gone 
through  his  confession,  and,  to  use  the  common 
phrase,  "  had  made  a  clean  breast  of  it,"  he  be 
came  quite  himself  again.  He  had  settled  the 
point  which  had  been  worrying  his  mind,  and, 
doubtless,  considered  himself  established  as  a 
man  of  sentiment  in  my  opinion.  Before  we 
had  finished  our  morning's  stroll,  he  was  sing 
ing  as  blythe  as  a  grasshopper ;  whistling  to  his 
dogs,  and  telling  droll  stories ;  and  I  recollect 
that  he  was  particularly  facetious  that  day,  at 
dinner,  on  the  subject  of  matrimony :  and  uttered 


30  A  BACHELOR'S  CONFESSIONS. 

several  excellent  jokes,  not  to  be  found  in  Joe 
Miller,  that  made  the  future  bride  blush,  and 
look  down,  but  set  all  the  old  gentlemen  at  the 
table  in  a  roar,  and  absolutely  brought  tears  into 
the  general's  eyes. 


ENGLISH    GRAVITY. 


Merrie  England ! 

ANCIENT  PHRASE. 


THERE  is  ^nothing  so  rare  as  for  a  man  to 
ride  his  hobby  without  molestation.  I  find  the 
Squire  has  been  repeatedly  thwarted  in  his  hu 
mours,  and  has  suffered  a  kind  of  well  meaning 
persecution  of  late,  by  a  Mr.  Faddy,  an  old  gen 
tleman  of  some  weight,  at  least  of  purse,  who 
has  moved  into  the  neighbourhood.  He  is  a 
worthy  manufacturer,  who  having  accumulated 
a  large  fortune  by  steam  and  spinning  jennies, 
has  retired  from  business,  and  buried  himself  in 
the  shades  of  the  country. 

He  has  taken  an  old  country  seat,  and  refitted 
it  and  painted  it,  until  it  looks  not  unlike  his 
own  manufactory.  He  has  been  particularly 


32  ENGLISH  GRAVITY. 

careful  in  mending  the  walls  and  hedges ;  and 
putting  up  notices  of  spring  guns  and  men  traps 
in  every  part  of  his  premises.  Indeed,  he  shows 
great  jealousy  in  asserting  his  territorial  rights, 
having  stopped  up  a  foot  path  that  led  across 
one  of  his  fields,  and  given  notice,  in  staring 
letters,  that  "  whoever  was  found  trespasssing 
on  these  grounds  would  be  prosecuted  with 
the  utmost  rigour  of  the  law."  He  has  brought 
into  the  country  with  him  all  his  trite  max 
ims  and  practical  habits  of  business;  and  is 
one  of  those  intolerably  prosing,  sensible,  use 
ful,  troublesome  old  gentlemen,  that  go  about 
wearying  and  worrying  society  with  plans  of 
public  utility. 

He  is  very  much  disposed  to  be  on  good 
terms  with  the  Squire,  and  is  every  now  and 
then  calling  upon  him  with  some  excellent  mea 
sure  for  the  good  of  the  neighbourhood  ;  which 
happens  to  run  diametrically  opposite  to  some 
one  or  other  of  the  Squire's  peculiar  notions  ; 
but  which  is  "  too  sensible  a  measure"  to  be 
epenly  opposed. 


ENGLISH  GRAVITY.  33 

Thus  he  has  annoyed  him  excessively  by  en- 
Forcing  the  vagrant  laws,  expelling  the  gypsies, 
punishing  poachers,  and  endeavouring  to  sup 
press  country  wakes  and  rustic  games,  which 
he  considers  great  nuisances,  and  causes  of  the 
deadly  sin  of  idleness.  I  have  observed,  how 
ever,  that  the  manufacturer  is  gradually  swell 
ing  into  the  aristocrat;  he  is  losing  sight  of  his 
origin,  or  fancying  that  others  have  lost  sight  of 
it,  and  is  attempting,  in  a  casual  way,  to  shuffle 
himself  into  the  pack  of  genrility.  He  has  a 
great  deal  to  say  about  the  "  common  people  ;" 
talks  of  his  park,  his  gamekeeper,  and  the  ne 
cessity  of  keeping  up  the  game  laws;  and 
makes  frequent  use  of  the  phrase,  "  the  gentry 
of  the  neighbourhood." 

He  came  to  the  Hall  lately  with  a  face  full  of 
business,  to  consult  with  the  Squire  about  some 
mode  of  putting  a  stop  to  the  frolicking  at  the  vil 
lage  on  the  approaching  May-day,  as  it  drew  idle 
people  together  from  all  parts  of  the  neighbour 
hood,  who  spent  the  day  fiddling,  and  drinking, 

VOL,  ii.  5 


34  ENGLISH  GRAVITY. 

and  dancing,  instead  of  staying  at  home  to  work 
for  their  families.  As  the  Squire  is  at  the  bot 
tom  of  these  May-day  revels,  it  may  be  sup 
posed  that  the  suggestions  of  the  matter-of-fact, 
Mr.  Faddy  were  not  received  with  the  best  grace 
in  the  world.  After  he  was  gone  the  Squire  could 
not  contain  his  indignation  at  having  his  poeti 
cal  cobwebs  invaded  by  this  buzzing  blue  bottle 
fly  of  traffick. 

In  the  warmth  of  his  feelings  he  made  a 
whimsical  tirade  at  the  whole  race  of  manufac 
turers,  whom  he  accused  of  being  the  marrers 
of  the  face  of  the  country,  and  the  destroyers  of 
rural  manners.  "  Sir,"  said(  he  with  emotion, 
"  it  makes  my  heart  bleed  to  see  all  our  fine 
streams  dammed  up  and  bestrode  by  cotton 
mills  ;  our  valleys  smoking  with  steam  engines  ; 
to  hear  the  din  of  the  hammer  and  the  loom 
scaring  away  all  our  rural  delights  ;  to  see  our 
sturdy  peasantry  metamorphosed  into  pin  ma 
kers  and  stocking  weavers;  and  merry  Sher 
wood,  and  all  the  green  wood  haunts  of  Robin 
Hood,  covered  with  manufacturing  towns. 


ENGLISH  GRAVITY.  35 

"  Sir,  T  have  stood  on  the  tottering  ruins  of 
Dudley  Castle,  and  looked  round  with  an  aching 
heart,  on  what  were  once  beautiful  vales  and 
fertile  hills,  now  turned  into  a  mere  Campus 
Phlegrae.  The  whole  country  reeking  with 
coal  pits ;  a  region  of  fire,  where  furnaces  and 
smelting  houses  were  vomiting  forth  flumes  and 
smoke.  The  people,  pale  and  ghastly,  looked 
more  like  demons  than  human  beings,  as  the.y 
toiled  among  these  noxious  exhalations  ;  and  the 
clanking  wheels  and  engines  seen  through  the 
murky  atmosphere,  looked  like  instruments  of 
torture  in  this  terrestrial  pandemonium!  What 
is  to  become  of  the  country  with  these  evils  rank* 
ling  in  its  very  core  ?  Sir,  these  manufacturers 
will  be  the  ruin  of  the  national  character !  They 
will  not  leave  materials  for  a  line  of  poetry  !" 

There  was  something  in  this  In  mentation 
over  public  improvements  and  national  industry 
that  amused  me  exceedingly  ;  but  I  find  that  the 
Squire  really  grieves  over  the  growing  spirit  of 
trade  as  destroying  the  charm  of  life.  He  con 
siders  every  new  short-hand  mode  of  doing  things 


36  ENGLISH  GRAVITY. 

as  an  inroad  of  snug  sordid  method  ;  and  thinks 
that  this  will  soon  become  a  mere  matter-of- 
fact  world,  where  life  will  be  reduced  to  a  ma 
thematical  calculation  of  conveniences,  and  every 
thing  will  be  done  by  steam. 

He  maintains,  also,  that  the  nation  has  de 
clined  in  its  free  and  joyous  spirit,  in  proportion 
as  it  has  turned  its  attention  to  commerce  and 
manufactures ;  and  that  in  old  times,  when  Eng 
land  was  an  idler,  it  was  also  a  merrier  little 
island. 

Indeed,  the  old  gentleman  adduces  a  number 
of  authorities,  that  in  some  measure  bear  him 
out  in  his  notions.  If  we  may  judge  from  the 
frequency  and  extravagance  of  ancient  festivals 
and  merry-makings,  and  the  hearty  spirit  with 
which  they  were  kept  up  by  all  classes  of  peo 
ple,  the  English  were  a  much  gayer  people  than 
at  present. 

Stow,  in  his  survey  of  London,  gives  us  many 
animating  pictures  of  the  revels  on  holydays,  at 
the  inns  of  court,  and  the  mummeries,  rnasqu- 
ings,  and  bonfires  about  the  streets.  London  then 


ENGLISH  GRAVITY.  37 

resembled  the  continental  cities  in  its  manners 
and  amusements. 

The  court  used  to  dance  after  dinner  on  pub 
lic  occasions.  After  the  coronation  dinner  of 
Richard  II.  the  king,  the  prelates,  the  nobles, 
the  knights,  and  the  rest  of  the  company,  danced 
in  Westminster  Hall  to  the  music  of  the  min 
strels. 

The  example  of  the  court  was  followed  by 
the  middling  classes,  who  spent  much  of  the 
time  in  dancing. 

Stow  gives  us  a  gay  city  picture,  that  resem 
bles  the  lively  groups  one  may  often  see  in  Pa 
ris  ;  for  he  tells  us,  that  on  holydays,  after 
evening  prayers,  the  maidens  used  to  assemble 
before  the  door,  in  sight  of  their  masters  and 
dames,  and  while  one  played  on  a  timbrel,  the 
others  would  dance  for  garlands  hanged  athwart 
the  street. 

Of  the  gayety  that  prevailed  in  dress  through 
out  all  ranks  of  society,  we  have  abundant  testi 
mony  in  the  rich  and  fanciful  costumes  preserved 
in  books  and  paintings.  "  I  have  myself,"  says 


38  ENGLISH  GRAVITY. 

Gervaise  Markham,  "  met  an  ordinary  tapster 
in  his  silk  stockins,  garters  deepe  fringed  vvith 
gold  lace,  the  rest  of  his  apparell  suitable,  with 
cloake  lined  with  velvet."  Nashe,  too,  who 
wrote  in  1593,  exclaims  at  the  folly  and  finery 
of  the  nation.  "  England,  the  players'  stage  of 
gorgeous  attyre,  the  ape  of  all  nations'  superflui 
ties,  the  continual  masquer  in  outlandish  habili 
ments." 

These  and  many  such  authorities  are  quoted 
by  the  Squire,  by  way  of  contrasting  the  former 
spirit  and  vivacity  of  the  nation  with  its  present 
monotonous  habits  and  appearance.  "John 
Bull,"  he  will  say,  "  was  then  a  gay  cavalier, 
with  a  feather  in  his  cap  and  a  sword  by  his  side  ; 
but  he  is  now  a  plodding  citizen,  in  snuff  colour 
ed  coat  and  gaiters." 

But  what  in  fact  has  caused  such  a  decline 
of  gayety  in  the  national  character,  that  the 
country  has  almost  lost  all  right  to  its  favourite 
old  title  of  "  Merry  England  ?"  It  may  be  at 
tributed  in  part  to  the  growing  hardships  of  the 
times,  and  the  necessity  of  turning  the  whole  at- 


ENGLISH  GRAVITY.  39 

tention  to  the  means  of  subsistence;  but  Eng 
land's  gayest  customs  prevailed  at  times  when 
her  common  people  enjoyed  comparatively  few 
of  the  comforts  and  conveniences  that  they  do 
at  present.  It  may  be  still  more  attributed  to 
the  universal  spirit  of  gain,  and  the  calculating 
habits  of  business  that  commerce  has  introduced ; 
but  I  am  inclined  to  attribute  it  chiefly  to  the 
gradual  increase  of  the  liberty  of  the  subject, 
arid  the  general  freedom  and  activity  of  opinion. 
A  free  people  are  apt  to  be  grave  and  thought 
ful.  They  have  high  and  important  matters  to 
occupy  their  thoughts.  They  feel  it  is  their 
right,  their  interest,  and  their  duty,  to  mingle  in 
public  concerns,  and  to  watch  over  the  general 
welfare. 

The  continual  exercise  of  the  mind  on  politi 
cal  topics  gives  intenser  habits  of  thinking,  and 
a  more  serious  and  earnest  demeanour.  A  na 
tion  becomes  less  gay,  but  more  intellectually 
active  and  vigorous.  It  evinces  less  play  of 
the  fancy,  but  more  power  of  the  imagination ; 
less  taste  and  elegance,  but  more  grandeur  of 


40  ENGLISH  GRAVITY. 

mind ;  less  animated  vivacity,  but  deeper   en 
thusiasm. 

If  is  when  men  are  shut  out  of  the  regions  of 
manly  thought,  by  a  despotic  government ;  when 
every  grave  and  lofty  theme  is  rendered  perilous  to 
discussion  and  almost  to  reflection  ;  it  is  then  that 
they  turn  to  the  safer  occupations  of  taste  and 
amusement,  trifles  rise  to  importance,  and  occupy 
the  craving  activity  of  intellect. 

No  being  is  more  void  of  care  and  reflection 
than  the  slave ;  none  dances  more  gayly  in  his 
intervals  of  labour;  but  make  him  free,  give 
him  rights  and  interests  to  guard,  and  he  be 
comes  thoughtful  and  laborious. 

The  French  are  a  gayer  people  than  the  Eng 
lish.  Why  ?  Partly  from  temperament  perhaps ; 
but  greatly  because  they  have  been  accustomed 
to  governments  which  surrounded  the  free  exer 
cise  of  thought  with  danger,  and  where  he  only 
was  safe  who  shut  his  eyes  and  ears  to  public 
events,  and  enjoyed  the  passing  pleasure  of  tfie 
day.  Within  late  years  they  have  had  more  op 
portunities  of  exercising  their  minds,  and  within 


ENGLISH  GRAVITY.  41 

late  years  the  national  character  has  essentially 
changed.  Never  did  the  French  enjoy  such  a 
degree  of  freedom  as  they  do  at  this  moment ; 
and  at  this  moment  the  French  are  comparatively 
a  grave  people. 


VOL.  II. 


GIPSIES. 


What's  that  to  absolute  freedom  ;  such  as  the  very  beggars  have  , 
to  feast  and  revel  here  to  day,  and  yonder  to-morrow ;  next  day 
where  they  please,  and  so  on  still,  the  whole  country  or  kingdom 
over  ?  There's  liberty  !  the  birds  of  the  air  can  take  no  more. 

JOVIAL  CREW. 


SINCE  the  rencontre  with  the  gipsies,  which  I 
have  related  in  a  former  paper,  I  have  observed 
several  of  them  haunting  the  purlieus  of  the 
Hall,  in  spite  of  a  positive  interdiction  of  the 
Squire's.  They  are  part  of  a  gang  that  has 
long  kept  about  this  neighbourhood,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  the  farmers ;  whose  poultry  yards 
often  suffer  from  their  nocturnal  invasions.  They 
are,  however,  in  some  measujre  patronized  by  the 
Squire,  who  considers  the  race  as  belonging  to 
the  "  good  old  times,"  which,  to  confess  the 
private  truth,  seem  to  have  abounded  with  good 
for  nothing  characters. 


GIPSIES.  43 

This  roving  crew  is  called  "  Star-light  Tom's 
gang,"  from  the  name  of  its  chieftain,  a  noto 
rious  poacher.  I  have  heard  repeatedly  of  the 
misdeeds  of  this  "  minion  of  the  moon ;"  for 
every  midnight  depredation  that  takes  place  in 
park,  or  fold,  or  farm  yard,  is  laid  to  his  charge. 
Star-light  Tom  in  fact  answers  to  his  name  ;  he 
seems  to  walk  in  darkness,  and  like  a  fox,  to  be 
traced  in  the  mornings  by  the  mischief  he  has 
done.  He  reminds  me  of  that  fearful  person 
age  in  the  nursery  rhyme : 

Who  goes  round  the  house  at  night  ? 

None  but  bloody  Tom  ! 
Who  steals  all  the  sheep  at  night  ? 

None,  but  one  by  one  ! 

In  short,  Star-light  Tom  is  the  scape-goat  of 
the  neighbourhood ;  but  as  cunning  and  adroit 
that  there  is  no  detecting  him.  Old  Christy 
and  the  gamekeeper  have  watched  many  a  night 
in  hopes  of  entrapping  him  ;  and  Christy  often 
patrols  the  park  with  his  dogs,  for  the  purpose, 
but  all  in  vain.  It  is  said  that  the  Squire  winks 
hard  at  his  misdeeds,  having  an  indulgent  feel- 


44  GIPSIES. 

irig  toward  the  vagabond,  because  of  his  being 
very  expert  at  all  kinds  of  games,  a  great  shot 
with  the  cross  bow,  and  the  best  morrice  dancer 
in  the  country. 

The  Squire  also  suffers  the  gang  to  lurk  un 
molested  about  the  skirts  of  his  estate,  on  condi 
tion  that  they  do  not  come  about  the  house.  The 
approaching  wedding,  however,  has  made  a  kind 
of  saturnalia  at  the  Hall,  and  has  caused  a  sus 
pension  of  all  sober  rule.  It  has  produced  a 
great  sensation  throughout  the  female  part  of  the 
household  ;  not  a  housemaid  but  dreams  of  wed 
ding  favours,  and  has  a  husband  running  in  her 
head.  Such  a  time  is  a  harvest  for  the  gipsies. 
There  is  a  public  footpath  leading  across  one 
part  of  the  park,  by  which  they  have  free  ingress ; 
and  they  are  continually  hovering  about  the 
grounds,  telling  the  servant  girls'  fortunes,  or 
getting  smuggled  in  to  the  young  ladies. 

I  believe  the  Oxonian  amuses  himself  very 
much  by  furnishing  them  with  hints  in  private, 
and  bewildering  all  the  weak  brains  in  the  house 
with  their  wonderful  revelations.  The  general 


GIPSIES.  45 

certainly  was  very  much  astonished  by  the  com 
munications  made  to  him  the  other  evening  by 
the  gipsy  girl ;  he  kept  a  wary  silence  towards 
us  on  the  subject,  and  affected  to  treat  it  lightly ; 
but  I  have  noticed  that  he  has  since  redoubled  his 
attentions  to  Lady  Lillycraft  and  her  dogs. 

I  have  seen,  also,  Phoebe  Wilkins,  the  house 
keeper's  pretty  and  love-sick  niece,  holding  a 
long  conference  with  one  of  these  old  sybils  be 
hind  a  large  tree  in  the  avenue,  and  often  look 
ing  round  to  see  that  she  wras  not  observed.  I 
make  no  doubt  that  she  was  endeavouring  to  get 
some  favourable  augury  about  the  result  of  her 
love  quarrel  with  young  Ready-Money,  as  ora 
cles  have  always  been  more  consulted  on  love 
affairs  than  upon  any  thing  else.  I  fear,  how 
ever,  that  in  this  instance  the  response  was  not 
as  favourable  as  usual,  for  I  perceived  poor 
Phoebe  returning  pensively  towards  the  house, 
her  head  hanging  down,  her  hat  in  her  hand,  and 
the  ribband  trailing  along  the  ground. 

At  another  time,  as  I  turned  a  corner  of  a 
terrace,  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  just  by  a 


46  GIPSIES. 

clump  of  trees  and  a  large  stone  urn,  1  came 
upon  a  bevy  of  the  young  girls  of  the  family, 
attended  by  this  same  Phoebe  Wilkins.  I  was 
at  a  loss  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  their 
blushing  and  giggling,  and  their  apparent  agita 
tion,  until  I  saw  the  red  cloak  of  a  gipsy  va 
nishing  among  the  shrubbery.  A  few  moments 
after  I  caught  sight  of  Master  Simon  and  the 
Oxonian  stealing  along  one  of  the  walks  in  the 
garden,  chuckling  and  laughing  at  their  success 
ful  waggery,  having  evidently  put  the  gipsy 
"  up  to  the  thing,"  and  instructed  her  what  to 
say. 

After  all,  there  is  something  strangely  pleas 
ing  in  these  tamperings  with  the  future,  even 
where  we  are  convinced  of  the  fallacy  of  the 
prediction.  It  is  singular  how  willingly  the 
mind  will  half  deceive  itself,  and  with  wh'at  a 
degree  of  awe  we  will  listen  to  these  babblers 
about  futurity.  For  my  part  I  cannot  feel  angry 
with  those  poor  vagabonds,  that  seek  to  deceive 
us  into  bright  hopes  and  expectations.  I  have 
always  been  something  of  a  castle  builder,  and 


GIPSIES.  47 

have  found  my  liveliest  pleasures  arising  from 
the  illusions  which  fancy  has  cast  over  common 
placed  realities.  As  I  get  on  in  life,  I  find  it 
more  difficult  to  deceive  myself  in  this  delight 
ful  manner ;  and  1  should  be  thankful  to  any 
prophet,  however  false,  that  should  conjure  the 
clouds  which  hang  over  futurity  into  palaces, 
and  all  its  doubtful  regions  into  fairy  land. 

The  Squire,  who,  as  I  have  observed,  has  a 
private  good  will  toward  gipsies,  has  suffered 
considerable  annoyance  on  their  account.  Not 
that  they  requite  his  indulgence  with  ingratitude, 
for  they  do  not  depredate  very  flagrantly  op  his 
estate,  but  because  their  pilferings  and  mis 
deeds  occasion  loud  murmurs  in  the  village. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  a  great  toleration 
for  all  kinds  of  vagrant,  sunshiny  existence,  and 
must  confess  I  take  a  pleasure  in  observing  the 
ways  of  gipsies.  The  English,  who  are  accus 
tomed  to  them  from  childhood,  and  often  suffer 
from  their  petty  depredations,  consider  them  as 
mere  nuisances ;  but  I  have  been  very  much 
struck  with  their  peculiarities.  I  like  to  behold 


48  GIPSIES. 

their  clear  olive  complexions,  their  romantic 
black  eyes,  their  raven  locks,  their  lithe  slen 
der  figures,  and  to  hear  them,  in  low  silver 
tones,  dealing  forth  magnificent  promises  of 
honours  and  estates,  of  world's  wealth,  and 
ladies'  love. 

Their  mode  of  life,  too,  has  something  in  it 
very  fanciful  and  picturesque.  They  are  the 
denizens  of  nature,  and  maintain  a  primitive 
independence  in  spite  of  law  and  gospel,  of 
county  gaols  and  country  magistrates.  It  is  cu 
rious  to  see  this  obstinate  adherence  to  the  wild 
unsettled  habits  of  savage  life  transmitted  from 
generation  to  generation,  and  preserved  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  the  most  cultivated,  populous, 
and  systematic  countries  in  the  world.  They 
are  totally  distinct  from  the  busy,  thrifty  people 
about  them.  They  seem  to  'be  like  Indians, 
either  above  or  below  the  ordinary  cares  and 
anxieties  of  mankind.  Heedless  of  power,  of 
honour,  of  wealth ;  and  indifferent  to  the  fluctu 
ations  of  the  times,  the  rise  or  fall  of  grain,  or 
stock,  or  empires ;  they  seem  to  laugh  at  the  toil- 


GIPSIES.  49 

ing,  fretting  world  around  them,  and  to  live  ac 
cording  to  the  philosophy  of  the  old  song : 


Who  would  ambition  shun 

And  loves  to  lie  i'  the  sun, 

Seeking  the  food  he  eats, 

And  please  with  what  he  gets. 

Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither, 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy, 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 


In  this  way  they  wander  from  county  to  county, 
keeping  about  the  purlieus  of  villages,  or  in 
plenteous  neighbourhoods,  where  there  are  fat 
farms  and  rich  country  seats.  Their  encamp 
ments  are  generally  made  in  some  beautiful  spot ; 
either  a  green  shady  nook  of  a  road,  or  on  the 
border  of  a  common,  under  a  sheltering  hedge, 
or  on  the  skirts  of  a  fine  spreading  wood.  They 
are  always  to  be  found  lurking  about  fairs  and 
races,  and  rustic  gatherings,  wherever  there  is 
pleasure,  and  throng,  and  idleness.  They  are 
the  oracles  of  milkmaids  and  simple  serving 
girls ;  and  sometimes  have  even  the  honour  of 
perusing  the  white  hands  of  gentlemen's  daugh- 

VOL.  II.  7 


50  GIPSIES. 

ters,  when  rambling  about  their  father's  grounds. 
They  are  the  bane  of  good  housewives  and 
thrifty  farmers,  and  odious  in  the  eyes  of  coun 
try  justices ;  but,  like  all  vagabond  beings,  they 
have  something  to  commend  them  to  the  fancy. 
They  are  among  the  last  traces,  in  these  matter- 
of-fact  days,  of  the  motly  population  of  former 
times ;  and  are  whimsically  associated  in  my 
mind  with  fairies  and  witches,  Robin  Good  Fel 
low,  Robin  Hood,  and  the  other  fantastical  per 
sonages  of  poetry. 


MAY-DAY    CUSTOMS. 


Happy  the  age,  and  harmless  were  the  dayes, 

(For  then  true  love  and  amity  was  found) 
When  every  village  did  a  May-pole  raise, 

And  Whitson-ales  and  May-games  did  abound  ; 
And  all  the  lusty  yonkers,  in  a  rout, 

With  merry  lasses  dannc'd  the  rod  about, 
Then  friendship  to  their  banquets  bid  the  guests, 

And  poore  men  fared  the  better  for  their  feasts. 
Then  lords  of  castles,  mannors,  townes,  and  towers, 

Rejoic'd  when  they  beheld  the  farmers  flourish, 
And  would  come  downe  unto  the  summer-bowers 

To  see  the  country-gallants  dance  the  Morrice. 

PASO,UIL'S  PALINODIA.  1634. 


THE  month  of  April  has  nearly  passed  away, 
and  we  are  fast  approaching  that  poetical  day 
which  was  considered,  in  old  times,  as  the 
boundary  that  parted  the  frontiers  of  winter  and 
summer.  With  all  its  caprices,  however,  I  like 
the  month  of  April.  I  like  these  laughing  and 
crying  days,  when  sunshine  and  shade  seem  to 
run  in  billows  over  the  landscape.  I  like  to 


52  MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS. 

see  the  sudden  shower  coming  over  the  meadows 
and  giving  all  nature  a  greener  smile,  and  the 
bright  sunbeams  chasing  the  flying  cloud,  and 
turning  all  its  drops  into  diamonds. 

I  was  enjoying  a  morning  of  the  kind  in  com 
pany  with  the  Squire  in  one  of  the  finest  parts  of 
the  park. 

We  were  skirting  a  beautiful  grove,  and  he 
was  giving  me  a  kind  of  biographical  account 
of  several  of  his  favourite  forest  trees,  when  we 
heard  the  strokes  of  an  axe  from  the  midst  of  a 
thick  copse.  The  Squire  paused  and  listened, 
with  manifest  signs  of  uneasiness.  He  turned 
his  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  The 
strokes  grew  louder  and  louder  as  we  advanced  ; 
there  was  evidently  a  vigorous  arm  wielding  the 
axe.  The  Squire  quickened  his  pace,  but  in 
vain ;  a  loud  crack  and  a  succeeding  crash  told 
that  the  mischief  had  been  done,  and  some  child 
of  the  forest  laid  low.  When  we  came  to  the 
place  we  found  Master  Simon  and  several  others 
standing  about  a  tall  and  beautifully  straight 
young  larch  which  had  just  been  felled. 


MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS.  53 

The  Squire,  though  a  man  of  most  harmo 
nious  disposition,  was  completely  put  out  of 
tune  by  this  circumstance.  He  felt  like  a  mon 
arch  witnessing  the  murder  of  one  of  his  liege 
subjects,  and  demanded,  with  some  asperity,  the 
meaning  of  the  outrage.  It  turned  out  to  be  an 
affair  of  Master  Simon's ;  who  had  selected  the 
tree,  from  its  height  and  straightness,  for  a  May 
pole  ;  the  old  one  which  stood  on  the  village 
green  being  unfit  for  farther  service. 

If  any  thing  could  have  soothed  the  ire  of  my 
worthy  host,  it  would  have  been  the  reflection 
that  his  tree  had  fallen  in  a  good  cause,  and  I 
saw  that  there  was  a  great  struggle  between  his 
fondness  for  his  groves,  and  his  devotion  to  May 
day. 

He  could  not  contemplate  the  prostrate  tree, 
however,  without  indulging  in  lamentation,  and 
making  a  kind  of  funeral  eulogy,  and  he  forbad 
that  any  tree  should  thenceforward  be  cut  down 
ort  his  estate  without  a  warrant  from  himself; 
being  determined,  he  said,  to  hold  the  sovereign 
power  of  life  and  death  in  his  own  hands. 


54  MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS. 

This  mention  of  the  May-pole  struck  my  at 
tention,  and  I  inquired  whether  the  old  customs 
connected  with  it  were  still  kept  up  with  any 
spirit  in  this  part  of  the  country. 

The  Squire  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  I 
found  I  had  touched  on  one  of  his  tender  points, 
for  he  grew  quite  melancholy  in  bewailing  the 
total  decline  of  old  May-day.  Though  it  is  re 
gularly  celebrated  in  the  neighbouring  village, 
yet  it  has  been  merely  resuscitated  by  his  coun 
tenance,  and  is  kept  up  in  a  forced  state  of  ex 
istence  at  his  expense.  He  meets^  with  continual 
discouragements,  and  finds  great  difficulty  in 
getting  the  country  bumpkins  to  play  their  parts 
tolerably. 

He  manages  to  have  every  year  a  "  Queen  of 
the  May ;"  but  as  to  Robin  Hood,  Friar  Tuck, 
the  Dragon,  the  Hobby  Horse,  and  all  the  other 
motly  crew  that  used  to  enliven  the  day  with 
their  mummery,  he  has  not  ventured  to  introduce 
them. 

Still,  I  look  forward  with  some  interest  to  the 
promised  shadow  of  old  May-day,  even  though 


MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS.  55 

it  be  but  a  shadow  ;  and  I  feel  more  and  more 
pleased  with  this  whimsical,  yet  harmless  hobby 
of  my  host,  which  is  surrounding  him  with  agree 
able  associations,  and  making  a  little  world  of 
poetry  about  him. 

Brought  up,  as  I  have  been,  in  a  new  country, 
I  may  appreciate  too  highly  the  faint  vestiges  of 
ancient  customs  which  1  now  and  then  meet 
with  ;  and  the  interest  I  express  in  them  may 
provoke  a  smile  from  those  who  are  negligently 
suffering  them  to  pass  away.  But  with  what 
ever  indifference  they  may  be  regarded  by  those 
"  to  the  manner  born,"  yet,  in  my  mind,  the 
lingering  flavour  of  them  imparts  a  charm  to 
rustic  life,  which  nothing  else  could  readily  sup- 


I  shall  never  forget  the  delight  I  felt  on  first 
seeing  a  May-pole.  It  was  on  the  banks  of  the 
Dee,  close  by  the  picturesque  old  bridge,  that 
stretches  across  that  river  from  the  quaint  little 
city  of  Chester.  1  had  already  been  carried 
back  into  former  days  by  the  antiquities  of  that 
venerable  place,  the  examination  of  which  is 


56  MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS. 

equal  to  turning  over  the  pages  of  a  black  letter 
volume,  or  gazing  on  the  pictures  in  Froissart. 
The  May-pole  on  the  margin  of  that  poetic 
stream  completed  the  illusion.  My  fancy  adorn 
ed  it  with  wreaths  of  flowers,  and  peopled  the 
green  bank  with  all  the  dancing  revelry  of  May 
day.  The  mere  sight  of  the  May-pole  gave  a 
glow  to  my  feelings,  and  spread  a  charm  over 
the  country  for  th$  rest  of  the  day ;  and  as  I 
traversed  a  part  of  the  fair  plain  of  Cheshire, 
and  the  beautiful  borders  of  Wales,  and  looked 
from  among  swelling  hills  down  a  long  green 
valley,  through  which  "  the  Deva  wound  its 
wizard  stream,"  my  imagination  turned  all  into 
a  perfect  Arcadia. 

Whether  it  be  owing  to  such  poetical  associa 
tions,  early  instilled  into  my  mind ;  or  whether 
there  is,  as  it  were,  a  sympathetic  revival  and 
budding  forth  of  the  feelings  at  this  season,  cer 
tain  it  is,  that  I  always  experience,  wherever  I 
may  be  placed,  a  delightful  expansion  of  the  heart 
at  the  return  of  May.  It  is  said  that  birds  about 
this  time  will  become  restless  in  their  cages,  as  if 


MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS.  57 

instinct  with  the  season,  conscious  of  the  revelry 
that  is  going  on  in  the  groves,  and  impatient  to 
break  from  their  bondage  and  join  in  the  jubilee 
of  the  year. 

In  like  manner  I  have  felt  myself  excited  even 
in  the  midst  of  the  metropolis,  when  the  win 
dows  which  had  been  churlishly  closed  all  win 
ter,  were  again  thrown  open  to  receive  the  balmy 
breath  of  May  ;  when  the  sweets  of  the  coun 
try  were  breathed  into  the  town,  and  flowers 
were  cried  about  the  streets. 

I  have  considered  the  treasure  of  flowers  thus 
poured  in,  as  so  many  missives  from  nature  in 
viting  us  forth  to  enjoy  the  virgin  beauty  of  the 
year,  before  its  freshness  is  exhaled  by  the 
heats  of  sunny  summer.  y 

One  can  readily  imagine  what  a  gay  scene  it 
must  have  been  in  jolly  old  London,  on  a  May 
day  in  former  times,  when  the  doors  were  deco 
rated  with  flowering  branches  ;  when  every  hat 
was  decked  with  hawthorn,  and  Robin  Hood, 
Friar  Tuck,  Maid  Marian,  the  morrice  dancers, 
and  all  the  other  fantastic  masks  and  revellers 

VOL.  II.  8 


58  MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS. 

were  performing  their  antics  about  the  May-pole 
in  every  part  of  the  city. 

I  am  not.  a  bigoted  admirer  of  old  times  and 
old  customs  rrterely  because  of  their  antiquity. 
But  while  I  rejoice  in  the  decline  of  many  of 
the  rude  usages  and  coarse  amusements  of  for 
mer  days,  I  cannot  but  regret  that  this  innocent 
and  fanciful  festival  has  fallen  into  disuse.  It 
seemed  appropriate  to  this  verdant  and  pastoral 
country,  and  calculated  to  light  up  the  too  per 
vading  gravity  of  the  nation.  I  value  every 
custom  that  tends  to  infuse  poetical  feeling  into 
the  common  people,  and  to  sweeten  and  soften 
the  rudeness-  of  rustic  manners,  without  destroy 
ing  their  simplicity.  Indeed,  it  is  to  the  decline 
of  this  happy  simplicity  that  the  decline  of  this 
custom  may  be  traced ;  and  the  rural  dance  on 
the  green,  and  the  homely  May-day  pageant, 
have  gradually  disappeared,  in  proportion  as  the 
peasantry  have  become  expensive  and  artificial 
in  their  pleasures,  and  too  knowing  for  simple 
enjoyment. 


MAY-DAY  CUSTOMS.  59 

Some  attempts,  the  Squire  informs  me,  have 
been  made  of  late  years  by  men  of  both  taste 
and  learning,  to  rally  back  the  popular  feeling 
to  these  standards  of  primitive  simplicity  ;  but 
the  time  has  gone  by ;  the  feeling  has  become 
chilled  by  habits  of  gain  and  traffick ;  the  coun 
try  apes  the  manners  and  amusements  of  the 
town,  and  little  is  heard  of  May-day  at  present 
excepting  from  the  lamentations  of  authors,  who 
sigh  after  it  from  among  the  brick  walls  of  the 
city. 

For  0,  for  0,  the  Hobby  Horse  is  forgot. 


- 


VILLAGE    WORTHIES. 


Nay,  I  tell  you,  I  am  so  well  beloved  in  our  town,  that  not  the 
worst  dog  in  the  street  will  hurt  my  little  finger. 

COLLIER  OF  CROYDON. 


As  the  neighbouring  village  is  one  of  those 
out-of-the-way,  but  gossipping  little  places, 
where  a  small  matter  makes  a  great  stir,  it  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  the  approach  of  a  festi 
val  like  that  of  May-day  can  be  regarded  with 
indifference;  especially,  since  it  is  made  a  matter 
of  such  moment  by  the  great  folks  at  the  Hall. 
Master  Simon,  who  is  the  faithful  factotum  of 
the  worthy  Squire,  and  jumps  with  his  humour 
in  every  thing,  is  frequent  just  now  in  his  visits 
to  the  village,  to  give  directions  for  the  impend 
ing  fete,  and  as  I  have  taken  the  liberty  oc 
casionally  of  accompanying  him,  I  have  been 


-     VILLAGE  WORTHIES.  61 

enabled  to  get  some  insight  into  the  characters 
and  internal  politics  of  this  very  sagacious 
little  community. 

Master  Simon  is  in  fact  the  Caesar  of  the  vil 
lage.  It  is  true  the  Squire  is  the  protecting 
power,  but  his  factotum  is  the  active  and  busy 
agent  He  intermeddles  in  all  its  concerns; 
is  acquainted  with  all  the  inhabitants  and  their 
domestic  history;  gives  counsel  to  the  old  folks 
in  their  business  matters,  and  the  young  folks 
in  their  love  affairs,  and  enjoys  the  proud  satis 
faction  of  being  a  great  mart  in  a  little  world. 

He  is  the  dispenser  too  of  the  Squire's  charity, 
which  is  bounteous;  and,  to  do  Master  Simon 
justice,  he  performs  this  part  of  his  functions 
with  great  alacrity.  Indeed,  I  have  been  enter 
tained  with  the  mixture  of  bustle,  importance, 
and  kind  heartedness  which  he  displays.  He 
is  of  too  vivacious  a  temperament  to  comfort 
the  afflicted  by  sitting  down  moping  and  whi 
ning  and  blowing  noses  in  concert,  but  goes 
whisking  about,  like  a  sparrow,  chirping  conso 
lation  into  every  hole  and  corner  of  the  village. 


62  VILLAGE  WORTHIES. 

I  have  seen  an  old  woman,  in  a  red  cloak,  hold 
him  for  half  an  hour  together  with  some  long 
phthisical  tale  of  distress,  to  which  Master  Si 
mon  listened,  with  many  a  bob  of  the  head, 
smack  of  his  whip,  and  other  symptoms  of  im 
patience  ;  though  he  afterwards  made  a  most 
faithful  and  circumstantial  report  of  the  case  to 
the  Squire.  I  have  watched  him,  too,  during 
one  of  his  pop  visits  into  the  cottage  of  a  super 
annuated  villager,  who  is  a  pensioner  of  the 
Squire's ;  where  he  fidgetted  about  the  room 
without  sitting  down  ;  made  many  excellent  off 
hand  reflections,  with  the  old  invalid,  who  was 
propped  up  in  his  chair,  about  the  shortness  of 
life,  the  certainty  of  death,  and  the  necessity  of 
"  preparing  for  that  awful  change ;"  quoted 
several  texts  of  scripture  very  incorrectly,  but 
much  to  the  edification  of  the  cottager's  wife  ; 
and  on  coming  out  pinched  the  daughter's  rosy 
cheek,  and  wondered  what  was  in  the  young 
men  that  such  a  pretty  face  did  not  get  a  hus 
band. 


VILLAGE  WORTHIES.  63 

He  has,  also,  his  cabinet  councillors  in  the 
village,  with  whom  he  is  very  busy  just  now, 
preparing  for  the  May-day  ceremonies.  Among 
these  is  the  village  tailor,  a  pale-faced  fellow,  that 
plays  the  clarionet  in  the  church  choir,  and  being 
a  great  musical  genius,  has  frequent  meetings  of 
the  band  at  his  house,  where  they  "  make  night 
hideous"  by  their  concerts.  He  is,  in  conse 
quence,  high  in  favour  with  Master  Simon  ;  and 
through  his  influence  has  the  making,  or  rather 
marring,  of  all  the  liveries  of  the  Hall,  which  ge 
nerally  look  as  though  they  had  been  cut  out  by 
one  of  those  scientific  tailors  of  the  Flying  Island 
of  Laputa,  who  took  measure  of  their  customers 
with  a  quadrant.  The  tailor,  in  fact,  might  rise 
to  be  one  of  the  monied  men  of  the  village,  if  he 
were  not  rather  too  prone  to  gossip,  and  keep 
holydays,  and  give  concerts,  and  blow  all  his 
substance,  real  and  personal,  through  his  cla 
rionet  ;  which  literally  keeps  him  poor  both  in 
body  and  estate.  He  has  for  the  present  thrown 
by  all  his  regular  work,  and  suffered  the  breeches 
of  the  village  to  go  unmade  and  unmended, 


64  VILLAGE  WORTHIES. 

while  he  is  occupied  in  making  garlands  of  parti 
coloured  rags,  in  imitation  of  flowers,  for  the 
decoration  of  the  May -pole. 

Another  of  Master  Simon's  councillors  is  the 
apothecary,  a  short,  and  rather  fat  man,  with  a 
pair  of  prominent  eyes  that  diverge  like  those  of 
a  lobster.  He  is  the  village  wise  man  ;  very 
sententious,  and  full  of  profound  remarks  on 
shallow  subjects.  Master  Simon  often  quotes 
his  sayings,  and  mentions  him  as  rather  an  extra 
ordinary  man  ;  and  even  consults  him  occasion 
ally  in  desperate  cases  of  the  dogs  and  horses. 
Indeed,  he  seems  to  have  been  overwhelmed  by 
the  apothecary's  philosophy,  which  is  exactly 
one  observation  deep,  consisting  of  indisputable 
maxims,  such  as  may  be  gathered  from  the  mot 
toes  of  tobacco  boxes.  I  had  a  specimen  of  his 
philosophy  in  my  very  first  conversation  with 
him ;  in  the  course  of  which,  he  observed,  with 
great  solemnity  and  emphasis,  that  "  man  is  a 
compound  of  wisdom  and  folly ;"  upon  which 
Master  Simon,  who  had  hold  of  my  arm,  press 
ed  very  hard  upon  it,  and  whispered  in  my  ear, 
"  that's  a  devilish  shrewd  remark !" 


THE    SCHOOLMASTER. 


There  will  no  mosse  stick  to  the  stone  of  Sisiphus,  no  grasse  hang 
on  the  heeles  of  Mercury,  no  butter  cleave  on  the  bread  of  a  travel 
ler.  For  as  the.  eagle  at  every  flight  loseth  a  feather,  which  maketh 
her  bauld  in  her  age,  so  the  traveller  in  every  country  loseth  some 
fleece,  which  maketh  him  a  beggar  in  his  youth,  by  buying  that  for  a 
pound  which  he  cannot  sell  again  for  a  penny — repentance. 

LILLY'S  EUPHUES. 


AMONG  the  worthies  of  the  village  that  enjoy 
the  peculiar  confidence  of  Master  Simon,  is  one 
who  has  struck  my  fancy  so  much,  that  I  have 
thought  him  worthy  of  a  separate  notice.  It  is 
Slingsby,  the  schoolmaster ;  a  thin  elderly  man, 
rather  threadbare  and  slovenly ;  somewhat  indo 
lent  in  manner,  and  with  an  easy  good  humoured 
look,  not  often  met  with  in  his  craft.  I  have 
been  interested  in  his  favour  by  a  few  anecdotes 
which  I  have  picked  up  concerning  him. 

He  is  a  native  of  the  village,  and  was  a  con- 

VOL.  II.  9 


66  THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

temporary  and  playmate  of  Ready  Money  Jack's, 
in  the  days  of  their  boyhood.  Indeed,  they  car 
ried  on  a  kind  of  league  of  mutual  good  offices. 
Slingsby  was  rather  puny,  and  withall  somewhat 
of  a  coward ;  but  very  apt  at  his  learning  :  Jack, 
on  the  contrary,  was  a  bullyboy  out  of  doors, 
but  a  sad  laggard  at  his  books.  Slingsby  helped 
Jack  therefore  to  all  his  lessons,  and  Jack  fought 
all  Slingsby's  battles,  and  they  were  inseparable 
friends.  This  mutual  kindness  continued  even 
after  they  left  the  school,  notwithstanding  the 
dissimilarity  of  their  characters.  Jack  took  to 
ploughing  and  reaping,  and  prepared  himself  to 
till  his  paternal  acres ;  while  the  other  loitered 
negligently  on  in  the  path  of  learning,  until  he 
penetrated  even  into  the  confines  of  Latin  and 
mathemathics.  In  an  unlucky  hour,  however, 
he  took  to  reading  voyages  and  travels,  and  was 
smitten  with  a  desire  to  see  the  world.  This 
desire  increased  upon  him  as  he  grew  up.  So, 
early  one  bright  sunny  morning,  he  put  all  his 
effects  in  a  knapsack,  slung  it  on  his  back,  took 
staff  in  hand,  and  called  in  his  way  to  take  leave 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER.  67 

of  his  early  schoolmate.  Jack  was  just  going 
out  with  the  plough ;  the  friends  shook  hands 
over  the  farm  house  gate  ;  Jack  drove  his  team 
a-field,  and  Slingsby  whistled  "  over  the  hills 
and  far  away,"  and  sallied  forth  gayly  to  "  seek 
his  fortune." 

Years  and  years  passed  by,  and  young  Tom 
Slingsby  was  forgotten  ;  when,  one  mellow  Sun 
day  afternoon  in  autumn,  a  thin  man,  somewhat 
advanced  in  life,  with  a  coat  out  at  elbows, 
a  pair  of  old  nankeen  gaiters,  and  a  few  things 
tied  in  a  handkerchief  and  slung  on  the  end  of 
a  stick,  was  seen  loitering  through  the  village. 
He  appeared  to  regard  several  houses  atten 
tively,  to  peer  into  the  windows  that  were  open, 
to  eye  the  villagers  wistfully  as  they  returned 
from  church,  and  then  to  pass  some  time  in  the 
church-yard  reading  the  tomb-stones. 

At  length  he  found  his  way  to  the  farm  house 
of  Ready  Money  Jack,  but  paused  ere  he  at 
tempted  the  wicket ;  contemplating  the  picture 
of  substantial  independence  before  him.  In 
the  porch  of  the  house  sat  Ready  Money  Jack, 


68  THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

( 

in  his  Sunday  dress ;  with  his  hat  upon  his  head, 
his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  his  tankard  before 
him,  the  "  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed."  Beside 
him  lay  his  fat  house  dog.  The  varied  sounds 
of  poultry  were  heard  from  the  well  stocked 
farm  yard,  the  bees  hummed  from  their  hives  in 
the  garden,  the  cattle  lowed  in  the  rich  meadow  ; 
while  the  crammed  barns  and  ample  stacks  bore 
proof  of  an  abundant  harvest. 

The  stranger  opened  the  gate  and  advanced 
dubiously  toward  the  house.  The  mastiff  growl 
ed  at  the  sight  of  him,  but  was  immediately 
silenced  by  his  master ;  who,  taking  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  awaited  with  inquiring  aspect 
the  address  of  this  equivocal  personage.  The 
stranger  eyed  old  Jack  for  a  moment,  so  portly 
in  his  dimensions,  and  decked  out  in  gorgeous 
apparel ;  then  cast  a  glance  upon  his  own  thread 
bare  and  starveling  condition  and  the  scanty 
bundle  which  he  held  in  his  hand ;  then  giving 
his  shrunk  waistcoat  a  twitch  to  make  it  meet 
his  receding  waistband,  and  casting  another 
look,  half  sad,  half  humorous,  at  the  sturdy 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER.  69. 

yeoman. — "  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "  Mr.  Tibbets, 
you  have  forgot  old  times  and  old  playmates." 

The  latter  gazed  at  him  with  scrutinizing 
look,  but  acknowledged  that  he  had  no  recol 
lection  of  him.  ^4^1 

"  Like  enough,  like  enough,"  said  the 
stranger,  "  every  body  seems  to  have  forgotten 
poor  Slingsby." 

"  Why  no,  sure  !  it  can't  be  Tom  Slingsby  !" 

"  Yes,  but  it  is,  though,"  replied  the  other, 
shaking  his  head. 

Ready  Money  Jack  was  on  his  feet  in  a 
twinkling ;  thrust  out  his  hand  ;  gave  his  ancient 
crony  the  gripe  of  a  giant,  and  slapping  the 
other  hand  on  a  bench,  "  sit  down  there,"  cried 
he,  "  Tom  Slingsby  !" 

A  long  conversation  ensued  about  old  times, 
while  Slingsby  was  regaled  with  the  best  cheer 
that  the  farm  house  afforded  ;  for  he  was  hungry 
as  well  as  wayworn,  and  had  the  keen  appetite 
of  a  poor  pedestrian.  The  early  playmates 
then  talked  over  their  lives  and  adventures. 
Jack  had  but  little  to  relate,  and  was  never  good 


70  THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

at  a  long  story.  A  prosperous  life,  passed  at 
home,  has  little  incident  for  narration  ;  it  is  only 
poor  devils  that  are  tossed  about  the  world  that 
are  the  true  heroes  of  story.  Jack  had  stuck  by 
the  paternal  farm  ;  followed  tfce  same  plough  that 
his  forefathers  had  driven,  and  had  waxed  richer 
and  richer  as  he  grew  older.  As  to  Tom  Slings- 
by,  he  was  an  exemplification  of  the  old  proverb, 
"  a  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss."  He  had 
sought  his  fortune  about  the  world  without  ever 
finding  it, ;  being  a  thing  oftener  found  at  home 
than  abroad.  He  had  been  in  all  kinds  of  situa 
tions  ;  had  learnt  a  dozen  different  modes  of  ma 
king  a  living  ;  but  had  found  his  way  back  to 
his  native  village  rather  poorer  than  when  he 
left  it ;  his  knapsack  having  dwindled  down  into 
a  scanty  bundle. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  Squire  was  pass 
ing  by  the  farm  house  that  very  evening,  and 
called  there  as  is  often  his  custom.  He  found 
the  two  schoolmates  still  gossiping  in  the  porch, 
and,  according  to  the  good  old  Scottish  song, 
"  taking  a  cup  of  kindness  yet  for  auld  Jang 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER.  71 

syne."  The  Squire  was  struck  by  the  con 
trast  in  appearance  and  fortunes  of  these  early 
playmates.  Ready  Money  Jack,  seated  in  lord 
ly  state,  surrounded  by  the  good  things  of  this 
life,  with  golden  guineas  hanging  to  his  very 
watch  chain,  and  the  poor  pilgrim,  Slingsby, 
thin  as  a  weazel,  with  all  his  worldly  effects — 
his  bundle,  hat,  and  walking  staff,  lying  on  the 
ground  beside  him. 

The  good  Squire's  heart  warmed  towards  the 
cosmopolite ;  for  he  is  a  little  prone  to  like  such 
half  vagrant  kind  of  characters.  He  cast  about 
in  his  mind  how  he  should  contrive  once  more  to 
anchor  Slingsby  in  his  native  village.  Honest 
Jack  had  already  offered  him  a  present  shelter 
under  his  roof,  in  spite  of  the  hints,  and  winks, 
and  half  remonstrances  of  the  shrewd  Dame  Tib- 
bets  ;  but  how  to  provide  for  his  permanent 
maintenance,  was  the  question.  Luckily  the 
Squire  bethought  himself  that  the  village  school 
was  without  a  teacher.  A  little  farther  con 
versation  convinced  him  that  Slingsby  was 
as  fit  for  that  as  for  any  thing  else ;  and 


72  THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

in  a  day  or  two  he  was  seen  swaying  the  rod  of 
empire  in  the  very  school-house  where  he  had 
often  been  horsed  in  the  days  of  his  boyhood. 

Here  he  has  remained  for  several  years,  and 
being  honoured  by  the  countenance  of  the  Squire, 
and  the  fast  friendship  .of  Mr.  Tibbets,  he  has 
grown  into  much  importance  and  consideration 
in  the  village.  I  am  vtold,  however,  that  he  still 
shows,  now  and  then,  a  degree  of  restlessness, 
and  a  disposition  to  rove  abroad  again  and  see  a 
little  more  of  the  world ;  an  inclination  which 
seems  particularly  to  haunt  him  about  spring 
time.  There  is  nothing  so  difficult  to  conquer 
as  the  vagrant  humour,  when  once  it  has  been 
fully  indulged. 

Since  I  have  heard  these  anecdotes  of  poor 
Slingsby,  I  have  more  than  once  mused  upon 
the  picture  presented  by  him  and  his  schoolmate, 
Ready  Money  Jack,  on  their  coming  together 
again  after  so  long  a  separation.  It  is  difficult 
to  determine  between  lots  in  life,  where  each  is 
attended  with  its  peculiar  discontents.  He  who 
#ever  leaves  his  home  repines  at  his  monotonous 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER.  73 

existence,  and  envies  the  traveller  whose  life  is  a 
constant  tissue  of  wonder  and  adventure  ;  while 
he  who  is  tossed  about  the  world  looks  back  with 
many  a  sigh  on  the  safe  and  quiet  shore  which 
he  has  abandoned.  I  cannot  help  thinking, 
however,  that  the  man  that  stays  at  home  and 
cultivates  the  comforts  and  pleasures  daily  spring 
ing  up  around  him,  stands  the  best  chance  for 
happiness.  There  is  nothing  so  fascinating  to  a 
young  'mind  as  the  idea  of  travelling,  and  there 
is  very  witchcraft  in  the  old  phrase  found  in 
every  nursery  tale,  of  "  going  to  seek  one's  for 
tune."  A  continual  change  of  place  and  change 
of  object  promises  a  continual  succession  of  ad 
venture  and  gratification  of  curiosity.  But  there 
is  a  limit  to  all  our  enjoyments,  and  every  de 
sire  bears  its  death  in  its  very  gratification.  Cu 
riosity  languishes  under  repeated  stimulants; 
novelties  cease  to  excite  surprise,  until  at  length 
we  cannot  wonder  even  at  a  miracle.  He  who 
has  sallied  forth  into  the  world  like  poor  Slings- 
by,  full  of  sunny  anticipations,  finds  too  soon 
how  different  the  distant  scene  becomes  when 

VOL.  II.  10 


74  THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

visited.  The  smooth  place  roughens  as  he  ap 
proaches  ;  the  wild  place  becomes  tame  and  bar 
ren  ;  the  fairy  tints  that  beguiled  him  on,  still  fly 
to  the  distant  hill,  or  gather  upon  the  land  he 
has  left  behind,  and  every  part  of  the  landscape  is 
greener  than  the  spot  he  stands  on. 


THE     SCHOOL. 


But  to  come  down  from  great  men  and  higher  matters  to  my  little 
children  and  poor  school  house  again  ;  I  will,  God  willing,  go  for 
ward  orderly,  as  I  purposed  to  instruct  children  and  young  men  both 
for  learning  and  manners. 

ROGER  ASCHAM. 


HAVING  given  the  reader  a  slight  sketch  of 
the  village  schoolmaster,  he  may  be  curious  to 
learn  something  concerning  his  school.  As  the 
Squire  takes  much  interest  in  the'education  of  the 
neighbouring  children,  he  put  into  the  hands  of 
the  teacher,  on  first  installing  him  in  office,  a 
copy  of  Roger  Ascham's  Schoolmaster;  and 
advised  him,  moreover,  to  con  over  that  portion 
of  old  Peacham  which  treats  of  the  duty  of 
masters,  and  which  condemns  the  favourite 
method  of  making  boys  wise  by  flagellation. 

He  exhorted  Slingsby  not  to  break  down  or 


76  THE  SCHOOL. 

depress  the  free  spirit  of  the  boys  by  harshness 
and  slavish  fear,  but  to  lead  them  freely  and 
joyously  on  in  the  path  of  knowledge,  making 
it  pleasant  and  desirable  in  their  eyes.  He 
wished  to  see  the  youth  trained  up  in  the  man 
ners  and  habitudes  of  the  peasantry  of  the  good 
old  times;  and  thus  to  lay  a  foundation  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  favourite  object,  the  re 
vival  of  old  English  customs  and  character. 
He  recommended  that  all  the  ancient  holydays 
should  be  observed ;  and  that  the  sports  of  the 
boys  in  their  hours  of  play  should  be  regulated 
according  to  the  standard  authorities  laid  down 
in  Strutt,  a  copy  of  whose  invaluable  work, 
decorated  with  plates,  was  deposited  in  the 
school  house.  Above  all,  he  exhorted  the  peda 
gogue  to  abstain  from  the  use  of  birch,  an  in 
strument  of  instruction  which  the  good  Squire 
regards  with  abhorrence,  as  fit  only  for  the 
coercion  of  brute  natures,  that  cannot  be  rea 
soned  with. 

Mr.   Slingsby  has  followed  the  Squire's  in 
structions  to  the  best  of  his  disposition  and  abi- 


THE  SCHOOL.  77 

lities.  He  never  flogs  the  boys,  because  he  is  too 
easy,  good-humoured  a  creature  to  inflict  pain 
on  a  worm.  He  is  bountiful  in  holydays,  be 
cause  he  loves  holydays  himself,  and  has  a  sym 
pathy  with  the  urchins'  impatience  of  confine 
ment,  from  having  divers  times  experienced  its 
irksomeness  during  the  time  that  he  was  seeing 
the  world. 

As  to  sports  and  pastimes,  the  boys  are  faith 
fully  exercised  in  all  that  are  on  record  :  quoits, 
races,  prison  bars,  tip-cat,  trap-ball,  bandy-ball, 
wrestling,  leaping,  and  what  not.  The  only 
misfortune  is,  that  having  banished  the  birch, 
honest  Slingsby  has  not  studied  Roger  Ascham 
sufficiently  to  find  out  a  substitute ;  or  rather  he 
has  not  the  management  in  his  nature  to  apply 
one.  His  school,  therefore,  though  one  of  the 
happiest,  is  one  of  the  most  unruly  in  the  coun 
try  ;  and  never  was  a  pedagogue  more  liked,  or 
less  heeded  by  his  disciples,  than  Slingsby. 

He  has  lately  taken  a  coadjutor  worthy  of 
himself,  being  another  stray  sheep  that  has  re 
turned  to  the  village  fold.  This  is  no  other  than 


78  THE  SCHOOL. 

the  son  of  the  musical  tailor,  who  had  bestowed 
some  cost  upon  his  education,  hoping  to  see  him 
one  day  arrive  at  the  dignity  of  an  exciseman,  or 
at  least  of  a  parish  clerk.  The  lad  grew  up, 
however,  as  idle  and  musical  as  his  father ;  and 
being  captivated  by  the  drum  and  fife  of  a  re 
cruiting  party,  he  followed  them  off  to  the  army. 
He  returned  not  long  since,  out  of  money  and 
out  at  the  elbows,  the  prodigal  son  of  the  vil 
lage.  He  remained  for  some  time  lounging 
about  the  place  in  a  half  tattered  soldier's  dress, 
with  a  foraging  cap  on  one  side  of  his  head, 
jerking  stones  across  the  brook,  or  loitering  about 
the  tavern  door,  a  burthen  to  his  father,  and  re 
garded  with  great  coldness  by  all  the  warm 
householders. 

Something,  however,  drew  honest  Slingsby 
towards  the  youth.  It  might  be  the  kindness 
he  bore  to  his  father,  who  is  one  of  the  school 
master's  great  cronies ;  it  might  be  that  secret 
sympathy  which  draws  men  of  vagrant  propen 
sities  towards  each  other,  for  there  is  something 
truly  magnetic  in  the  vagabond  feeling;  or  it 


THE  SCHOOL,  79 

might  be  that  he  remembered  the  time  when  he 
himself  had  come  back  like  this  youngster,  a 
wreck  to  his  native  place.  At  any  rate,  what 
ever  the  motive,  Slingsby  drew  towards  the 
youth.  They  had  many  conversations  in  the 
village  tap-room  about  foreign  parts,  and  the 
various  scenes  and  places  they  had  witnessed 
during  their  way-faring  about  the  world.  The 
more  Slingsby  talked  with  him  the  more  he 
found  him  to  his  taste,  and  finding  him  almost 
as  learned  as  himself,  he  forthwith  engaged 
him  as  an  assistant  or  usher  in  the  school. 

Under  such  admirable  tuition  the  school,  as 
may  be  supposed,  flourishes  apace;  and,  if  the 
scholars  do  not  become  versed  in  all  the  holyday 
accomplishments  of  the  good  old  times  to  the 
Squire's  heart's  content,  it  will  not  be  the  fault 
of  their  teachers.  The  prodigal  son  has  become 
almost  as  popular  among  the  boys  as  the  peda 
gogue  himself.  His  instructions  are  not  limited 
to  the  school  hours ;  and,  having  inherited  the 
musical  taste  and  talents  of  his  father,  he  has 
bitten  the  whole  school  with  the  mania.  He 


SO  THE  SCHOOL. 

is  a  great  hand  at  beating  a  drum,  which  is  often 
heard  rumbling  from  the  rear  of  the  school  house. 
He  is  teaching  half  the  boys  of  the  village,  also, 
to  play  the  fife  and  the  pandean  pipes,  and  they 
weary  the  whole  neighbourhood  with  their 
vague  pipings,  as  they  sit  perched  on  stiles,  or 
loitering  about  the  barn  doors  in  the  evenings. 
Among  the  other  exercises  of  the  school,  also, 
he  has  introduced  the  ancient  art  of  archery, 
(one  of  the  Squire's  favourite  themes,)  with 
such  success,  that  the  whipsters  roam  in  truant 
bands  about  the  neighbourhood,  practising  with 
their  bows  and  arrows  upon  the  birds  of  the  air 
and  the  beasts  of  the  field.  In  a  word,  so  com 
pletely  are  the  ancient  English  customs  and  ha 
bits  cultivated  at  this  school,  that  I  should  not  be 
surprised  if  the  Squire  should  live  to  see  one  of 
his  poetic  visions  realized,  and  a  brood  reared  up, 
worthy  successors  to  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry 
gang  of  outlaws. 


POPULAR   SUPERSTITIONS. 


Farewell  Rewards  and  Fairies, 

Good  housewives  now  may  say ; 
For  now  fowle  sluts  in  Dairies 

Do  fare  as  well  as  they  : 
And  though  they  sweepe  their  hearth's  no  lesse 

Than  maids  were  wont  to  doe, 
Yet  who  of  late  for  cleanlinesse 

Finds  six  pence  in  her  shooe  ? 

BISHOP  COKJBET, 


I  HAVE  mentioned  the  Squire's  fondness  for 
the  marvellous,  and  <his  predilection  for  legends 
and  romances.  His  library  contains  a  curious 
collection  of  old  works  of  this  kind,  which  bear 
evident  marks  of  having  been  much  read.  In 
his  great  love  for  all  that  is  antiquated  he  che 
rishes  popular  superstitions,  and  listens  with  very 
grave  attention  to  every  tale  however  strange ; 
so  that,  through  his  countenance,  the  household, 
and  indeed  the  whole  neighbourhood,  is  well 

VOL.  II.  11 


82  POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

stocked  with  wonderful  stories;  and  if  ever  a 
doubt  is  expressed  of  anyone  of  them,  the  nar 
rator  will  generally  observe,  that  "  the  Squire 
thinks  there's  something  in  it." 

The  Hall  of  course  comes  in  for  its  share,  the 
common  people  having  always  a  propensity  to 
furnish  a  great  superannuated  building  of  the 
kind  with  supernatural  inhabitants.  The  gloomy 
galleries  of  such  old  family  mansions  ;  the  stately 
chambers  adorned  with  grotesque  carvings  and 
faded  paintings  ;  the  sounds  that  vaguely  echo 
about  them ;  the  moaning  of  the  wind  ;  the  cries 
of  rooks  and  ravens  from  the  trees  and  chimney 
tops — all  produce  a  state  of  mind  favourable  to 
superstitious  fancies. 

In  one  chamber  of  the  Hall,  just  opposite  a 
door  which  opens  upon  a  dusky  passage,  there 
is  a  full  length  portrait  of  a  warrior  in  armour  ; 
when,  on  suddenly  turning  into  this  passage, 
I  have  caught  a  sight  of  the  portrait,  thrown  into 
strong  relief  by  the  dark  pannelling  against 
which  it  hangs,  I  have  more  than  once  been 
startled,  as  though  it  were  a  figure  advancing 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  83 

towards  me.  To  superstitious  minds,  therefore, 
predisposed  by  the  strange  and  melancholy  sto 
ries  that  are  often  connected  with  family  paint 
ings,  it  needs  but  little  stretch  of  fancy,  on  a 
moonlight  night,  or  by  the  flickering  light  of  a 
candle,  to  set  the  old  pictures  on  the  walls  in 
motion,  sweeping  in  their  robes  and  trains  about 
the  galleries. 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  Squire  confesses  that 
he  used  to  take  a  pleasure,  in  his  younger  days, 
in  setting  marvellous  stories  afloat,  and  connect 
ing  them  with  the  lonely  and  peculiar  places  of 
the  neighbourhood.  Whenever  he  read  any 
legend  of  a  striking  nature,  he  endeavoured  to 
transplant  it,  and  give  it  a  local  habitation 
among  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood.  Many  of 
these  stories  took  root,  and  he  says  he  is  often 
amused  with  the  odd  shapes  in  which  they  will 
come  back  to  him  in  some  old  woman's  narra 
tive,  after  they  have  been  circulating  for  years 
among  the  peasantry,  and  undergoing  rustic  ad 
ditions  and  amendments.  Among  these  may 
doubtless  be  numbered  that  of  the  crusader's 


84  POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

ghost,  which  I  have  mentioned  in  the  account  of 
my  Christmas  visit;  and  another,  about  the 
hard-riding  squire  of  yore,  the  family  Nimrod, 
who  is  sometimes  heard,  on  stormy  winter 
nights,  galloping,  with  hound  and  horn,  over  a 
wild  moor,  a  few  miles  distant  from  the  Hall. 
This  I  apprehend  to  have  had  its  origin  in  the 
famous  story  of  the  Wild  Huntsman,  the  fa 
vourite  goblin  in  German  tales ;  though  by  the 
i 

bye,  as  I  was  talking  on  the  subject  with  Master 
Simon  the  other  evening,  in  the  dark  avenue,  he 
hinted  that  he  had  himself  once  or  twice  heard 
strange  sounds  at  night,  very  like  a  pack  of 
hounds  in  cry ;  and  that  once  as  he  was  return 
ing  rather  late  from  a  hunting  dinner,  he  had 
seen  a  strange  figure  galloping  along  this  same 
moor ;  but  as  he  was  riding  rather  fast  at  the 
time,  and  in  a  hurry  to  get  home,  he  did  not 
stop  to  ascertain  what  it  was. 

Popular  superstitions  are  fast  fading  away  in 
England,  owing  to  the  general  diffusion  of  know 
ledge,  and  the  bustling  intercourse  kept  up 
throughout  the  country.  Still,  they  have  their 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  85 

strong  holds,  and  lingering  places,  and  a  retired 
neighbourhood  like  this  is  apt  to  be  one  of  them. 
The  parson  tells  me  that  he  meets  with  many  tra 
ditional  beliefs  and  notions  among  the  common 
people ;  which  he  has  been  able  to  draw  from  them 
in  the  course  of  familiar  conversation ;  though  they 
are  rather  shy  of  avowing  them  to  strangers,  and 
particularly  to  "  the  gentry,"  who  are  apt  to 
laugh  at  them.  He  says  there  are  several  of  his 
old  parishoners  who  remember  when  the  village 
had  its  Bar-guest,  or  Bar- ghost,  a  spirit  supposed 
to  belong  to  a  town  or  village,  and  to  predict  any 
impending  misfortune,  by  midnight  shrieks  and 
wailings.  The  last  time  it  was  heard  was  just 
before  the  death  of  Mr.  Bracebridge's  father, 
who  was  much  beloved  throughout  the  neigh 
bourhood  ;  though  there  are  not  wanting  some 
obstinate  unbelievers,  who  insist  that  it  was  no 
thing  but  the  howling  of  a  watch  dog. 

I  have  been  greatly  delighted,  however,  at 
meeting  with  some  traces  of  my  old  favourite, 
Robin  Good  Fellow,  though  under  a  different 
appellation  from  any  of  those  by  which  I  have 


86  POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

heretofore  heard  him  called.  The  parson  as 
sures  me  that  many  of  the  peasantry  believe  in 
household  goblins  called  Dobbies,  which  live 
about  particular  farms  and  houses,  in  the  same 
way  that  Robin  Good  Fellow  did  of  old.  Some 
times  they  haunt  the  barns  and  outhouses ;  and 
now  and  then  will  assist  the  farmer  wonderfully, 
by  getting  in  all  his  hay  or  corn  in  a  single  night. 
In  general,  however,  they  prefer  to  live  within 
doors,  and  are  fond  of  keeping  about  the  great 
hearths,  and  basking  at  night,  after  the  family 
have  gone  to  bed,  by  the  glowing  embers.  When 
put  into  particular  good  humour  by  the  warmth 
of  their  lodgings,  and  the  tidiness  of  the  house 
maids,  they  will  overcome  their  natural  laziness, 
arid  do  a  vast  deal  of  household  work  before 
morning ;  churning  the  cream ;  brewing  the 
beer,  or  spinning  all  the  good  dame's  flax.  All 
this  is  precisely  the  conduct  of  Robin  Good 
Fellow ;  described  so  charmingly  by  Milton  : 

Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat, 
To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set, 
When  in  one  night,  'ere  glimpse  of  morn, 
His  shadowy  flail  had  thresh'd  the  con? 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  87 

That  ten  day-labourers  could  not  end  ; 
Then  lays  him  down  the  lubbar-fiend, 
And  stretched  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 
Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength, 
And,  crop-full,  out  of  door  he  flings, 
Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 

But,  beside  these  household  Dobbies,  there  are 
others  of  a  more  gloomy  and  unsocial  nature ; 
that  keep  about  lonely  barns,  at  a  distance  from 
any  dwelling  house  ;  or  about  ruins,  and  old 
bridges.  These  are  full  of  mischievous  and 
often  malignant  tricks ;  and  are  fond  of  play 
ing  pranks  upon  benighted  travellers.  There 
is  a  story  among  the  old  people  of  one  that 
haunted  a  ruined  mill,  just  by  a  bridge  that 
crosses  a  small  stream  ;  how  that  late  one  night, 
as  a  traveller  was  passing  on  horseback,  the 
Dobbie  jumped  up  behind  him,  and  grasped  him 
so  close  round  the  body,  that  he  had  no  power 
to  help  himself,  but  expected  to  be  squeezed  to 
death ;  luckily  his  heels  were  loose,  with  which 
he  plied  the  sides  of  his  steed,  and  was  carried, 
with  the  wonderful  instinct  of  a  traveller's 
horse,  straight  to  the  village  inn.  Had  the  inn 


88  POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

been  at  any  greater  distance,  there  is  no  doubt 
but  he  would  have  been  strangled  to  d^ath  ;  as 
it  was,  the  good  people  were  a  Jong  time  in 
bringing  him  to  his  senses ;  and  it  was  remarked 
that  the  first  sign  he  showed  of  returning  con 
sciousness  was  to  call  for  a  bottom  of  brandy. 

The  only  instance  of  one  of  the  household 
Dobbies  that  the  parson  has  met  with,  is  one 
that  was  said  to  keep  about  the  old  farm  house 
of  Ready  Money  Jack.  It  has  long  been  tradi 
tional,  I  am  told,  that  one  of  these  good  natured 
goblins  is  attached  to  the  Tibbets'  family,  and 
came  with  them  when  they  moved  into  this  part 
of  the  country,  for  it  is  remarked  that  they  keep 
with  certain  families,  and  follow  them  wherever 
they  remove.  There  is  a  lar^e  old  fashioned 
fireplace  in  the  farm  house,  which  affords  fine 
quarters  for  a  chimney  corner  sprite  of  the  kind, 
that  likes  to  lie  warm ;  especially  as  Ready 
Money  Jack  keeps  up  rousing  fires  in  the  winter 
time.  The  old  people  of  the  village  recollect 
many  stories  that  were  told  about  this  goblin  in 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  89 

their  young  days.  It  was  thought  to  have 
brought  good  luck  to  the  house,  and  to  be  the 
reason  why  the  Tibbets  were  always  before 
hand  in  the  world  ;  why  their  farm  was  al 
ways  in  better  order ;  their  hay  got  in  sooner ; 
and  their  corn  better  stacked  than  that  of  their 
neighbours.  The  present  Mrs.  Tibbets,  at  the 
time  of  her  courtship,  had  a  number  of  these 
stones  told  her  by  the  country  gossips,  and  when 
married  was  a  little  fearful  about  living  in  a 
house  where  such  a  hobgoblin  was  said  to  haunt. 
Jack,  however,  who  has  always  treated  this  story 
with  great  contempt,  assured  her  that  there  was 
no  spirit  kept  about  his  house  that  he  could  not 
at  any  time  lay  in  the  Red  Sea  with  one  flourish 
of  his  cudgel.  Still,  his  wife  has  never  got  com 
pletely  over  her  notions  on  the  subject ;  she 
has  had  a  horse-shoe  nailed  on  the  threshold, 
and  keeps  a  branch  of  rauntry,  or  mountain  ash, 
with  its  red  berries,  suspended  from  one  of  the 
great  beams  in  the  parlour — sure  protections  from 
all  evil  spirits. 

VOL.  II.  12 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

These  stories,  however,  as  I  before  observed, 
are  fast  fading  away,  and  in  another  generation 
or  two  will  probably  be  completely  forgotten. 
There  is  something,  however,  about  these  rural 
superstitions  that    is  extremely  pleasing   to   the 
imagination.     I   allude  to  those  concerning  the 
good  humoured  race  of  household  demons,  and, 
indeed,   to  the    whole  fairy  mythology.     The 
English  have  given  an  inexpressible  charm  to 
these  superstitions,  by  the  manner  in  which  they 
have   associated  them  with    whatever   is  most 
home-felt  and  delightful  in  rustic  life,  or  refresh 
ing  and  beautiful  in  nature.     I  do  not  know  a 
more  fascinating  race  of  beings  than  these  little 
fabled  people  that  haunted  the  southern  sides  of 
hills  and  mountains  ;  lurked  in  flowers  and  about 
fountain  heads  ;  glided  through  keyholes  into  an 
cient  halls ;  watched  over  farm  houses  and  dairies ; 
danced  on  the  green  by  summer  moonlight,  and  on 
the  kitchen  hearth  in  winter.  They  seem  to  me  to 
accord  with  the  nature  of  English  housekeeping 
and  English  scenery.  I  always  have  them  in  mind 
when  I  see  a  fine  old  English  mansion,  with  its 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  91 

wide  hall  and  spacious  kitchen  ;  or  a  venerable 
farm  house,  in  which  there  is  so  much  fireside 
comfort  and  good  housewifery.  There  was  some 
thing  of  national  character  in  their  love  of  order 
and  cleanliness.  In  the  vigilance  with  which 
they  watched  over  the  economy  of  the  kitchen 
and  the  functions  of  the  servants ;  munificently 
rewarding,  with  silver  sixpence  in  shoe,  the  tidy 
housemaid ;  but  venting  their  direful  wrath,  in 
midnight  bobs  and  pinches,  upon  the  sluttish 
dairy  maid.  I  think  I  can  trace  the  good  effects 
of  this  ancient  fairy  sway  over  household  con 
cerns,  in  the  care  that  prevails  to  the  present  day 
among  English  housemaids,  to  put  their  kitchens 
in  order  before  they  go  to  bed. 

I  have  said,  too,  that  these  fairy  superstitions 
seemed  to  me  to  accord  with  the  nature  of  Eng 
lish  scenery.  They  suit  these  small  landscapes, 
which  are  divided  by  honey-suckled  hedges  into 
sheltered  fields  and  meadows,  where  the  grass 
is  mingled  with  daisies,  butter  cups,  and  hare 
bells.  When  I  first  found  myself  among  Eng 
lish  scenery  I  was  continually  reminded  of  the 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

sweet  pastoral  images  which  distinguish  their 
fairy  mythology  ;  and  when,  for  the  first  time,  a 
circle  in  the  grass  was  pointed  out  to  me,  as  one 
of  the  rings  where  they  were  formerly  supposed 
to  have  held  their  moonlight  revels,  it  seemed 
for  a  moment  as  if  fairy  land  were  no  longer 
a  fable. 

Browne,  in  his  Britannia's  Pastorals,  gives  a 
picture  of  the  kind  of  scenery  to  which  I  allude. 

A  pleasant  mead 

Where  fairies  often  did  their  measures  tread 
Which  in  the  meadows  make  such  circles  green 
As  if  with  garlands  it  had  crowned  been. 
Within  one  of  these  rounds  was  to  be  seen 
A  hillock  rise,  where  oft  the  Fairy  Queen 
At  twilight  sat. 

And  there  is  another  picture  of  the  same  in  a 

poem  ascribed  to  Ben  Jonson. 

i 

By  wells  and  rills,  in  meadows  green 

We  nightly  dance  our  hey-day  guise, 
And  to  our  fairy  King  and  Queen 

We  chaunt  our  moonlight  minstrelsies. 

Indeed,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  older  British 
poets,  with  that  true  feeling  for  nature  which 
distinguishes  them,  have  closely  adhered  to  the 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  9S 

simple  and  familiar  imagery  which  they  found 
in  these  popular  superstitions ;  and  have  thus 
given  to  their  fairy  mythology  those  continual 
allusions  to  the  farm  house  and  the  dairy,  the 
green  meadow  and  the  fountain  head,  that  fill 
our  minds  with  the  delightful  associations  of 
rural  life.  It  is  curious  to  observe  how  the 
most  beautiful  fictions  have  their  origin  among 
the  rude  and  ignorant.  There  is  an  indescriba 
ble  charm  about  the  illusions  with  which  chi 
merical  ignorance  once  clothed  every  subject. 
These  twilight  views  of  nature  are  often  more 
captivating  than  any  which  are  revealed  by  the 
rays  of  enlightened  philosophy.  The  most  ac 
complished  and  poetical  minds,  therefore,  have 
been  fain  to  search  back  into  these  accidental 
conceptions  of  what  are  termed  barbarous  ages, 
and  to  draw  from  thence  their  finest  imagery 
and  machinery.  If  we  look  through  our  most 
admired  poets  we  shall  find  that  their  minds 
have  been  impregnated  by  these  popular  fan 
cies  ;  and  that  those  have  succeeded  best  who 
have  adhered  closest  to  the  simplicity  of  their 


94  POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

rustic  originals.  Such  is  the  case  with  Shak- 
speare  in  his  Midsummer's  Night's  Dream, 
which  so  minutely  describes  the  employments 
and  amusements  of  fairies,  and  embodies  all 
the  notions  concerning  them,  which  were  current 
among  the  vulgar. 

It  is  thus  that  poetry,  in  England,  has 
echoed  back  every  rustic  note,  softened  into 
perfect  melody  :  it  is  thus  that  it  has  spread  its 
charms  over  every  day  life  ;  displacing  nothing  ; 
taking  things  as  it  found  them  ;  but  tinting  them 
up  with  its  own  magical  hues  ;  until  every  green 
hill,  and  fountain  head  every  fresh  meadow, 
nay,  every  humble  flower  is  full  of  song  and 
story. 

I  am  dwelling  too  long,  perhaps,  upon  a  thread 
bare  subject ;  yet  it  brings  up  with  it  a  thousand 
delicious  recollections  of  those  happy  days  of 
childhood,  when  the  imperfect  knowledge  I  have 
since  obtained  had  not  yet  dawned  upon  my 
mind;  and  when  a  fairy  tale  was  true  history  to 
me.  I  have  often  been  so  transported  by  the 
pleasure  of  these  recollections  as  almost  to  wish 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  95 

that  I  had  been  born  in  the  days  when  the  fic 
tions  of  poetry  were  believed ;  even  now  I  can 
not  look  upon  these  fanciful  creations  of  igno 
rance  and  credulity  without  a  lurking  regret  that 
they  have  all  passed  away.     The  experience  of 
my  early  days  tells  me  that  they  were  sources  of 
exquisite  delight;    and  I    sometimes   question 
whether  the  naturalist  who  can  dissect  the  flowers 
of  the  field,  receives  half  the  pleasure  from  con 
templating  them,  that  he  did  who  considered 
them  the  abodes  of  elves  and  fairies.     I  feel  con 
vinced  that  the  true  interests  and  solid  happiness 
of  man,  are  promoted  by  the  advancement  of 
truth  ;  yet  I  cannot  but  mourn  over  the  pleasant 
errors  which  it  has  trampled  down  in  its  progress. 
The  fawns  and  sylphs  ;  the  household  sprite;  the 
moonlight  revel;  Oberon,  Queen  Mab,  and  the 
delicious  realms  of  fairy  land,  all  vanish  before  the 
light  of  true  philosophy;  but  who  does  not  some 
times  turn  with  distaste  from  the  cold  realities  of 
morning,  and  seek  to  recall  the  sweet  visions  of 
the  night  ? 


96  POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 


ft 
* 


IN  an  old  play  entitled  the  Mayds  Meta 
morphosis,  there  is  a  scene  resembling  in  many 
respects  Nick  Bottom's  dialogue  with  the  fairies 
in  Midsummer's  Night's  Dream.  The  edition 
that  I  saw  was  printed  in  1600,  and  was  bound 
up  in  the  same  volume  with  an  edition  of  Mid 
summer's  Night's  Dream  published  in  the  same 
year.  Which  of  these  plays  was  written  first, 
I  do  not  know ;  though  it  is  very  possible  Shak- 
speare  may  have  taken  his  idea  from  the  other 
play,  and  improved  upon  it ;  as  he  took  the  hint 
of  his  witch  scenes  in  Macbeth  from  a  play  of 
Marlow's.  I  subjoin  the  scene  alluded  to  from 
the  Mayds  Metamorphosis. 

Mopso.     But  soft,  who  comes  here  ? 

f  Enter  the  Fairies,  singing  and  dancing.] 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  97 

By  the  moone  we  sport  and  play 
With  the  night  begins  our  day ; 
As  we  daunce  the  deaw  doth  fall. 
Trip  it  little  urchins  all : 
Lightly  as  the  little  Bee, 
Two  by  two  and  three  by  three  : 
And  about  go  we,  and  about  go  we. 
Joculo.  What  Mawmets  are  these  ? 
Frisco.  O  they  be  the  Fayries  that  haunt  these  woods. 
Mopso.  O  we  shall  be  pincht  most  cruelly. 
Is*.  Fay.  Will  you  have  any  musicke  sir  ? 
Zd.  Fay.  Will  you  have  any  fine  musicke  sir  ? 
3d.  Fay.  Most  daintie  musicke  ? 
Mopso.  We  must  set  a  face  on  it  now,  there's  no  flying 

No  sir ;  we  are  very  merry  I  thank  you. 
1st.  Fay.  O  but  you  shall  sir. 

Fris.  No.     I  pray  you  save  your  labour. 
2d.  Fay.  O  sir,  it  shall  not  cost  you  a  penny. 

Joculo.  Where  be  your  fiddles  ? 
3d.  Fay.  You  shall  have  most  daintie  instruments  sir. 

Mopso.  I  pray  you  what  might  I  call  you  ? 
1st.  Fay.  My  name  is  Penny. 
Mopso.  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  purse  you. 
Frisco.  I  pray  you  what  might  I  call  you  ? 
2d.  Fay.  My  name  is  Cricket. 
VOL.  II.  13 


98  POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS. 

Frisco.  I  would  I  were  a  chimney  for  your  sake. 
******** 

1st.  Fay.  I  do  come  about  the  coppes 

Leaping  upon  flowers  toppes : 

Then  I  get  upon  a  flie 

She  carries  me  above  the  skie  : 

And  trip  and  goe. 
2d.  Fay.  When  a  deaw  drop  falleth  downe, 

And  doth  light  upon  my  crowne, 

Then  I  shake  my  head  and  skip  : 

And  about  I  trip. 
3d.  Fay.  When  I  feele  a  gyrle  a  sleepe, 

Underneathe  her  frocke  I  peepe, 

There  to  sport,  and  there  I  play, 

Then  I  byte  her  like  a  flea, 

And  about  I  skip. 

Joculo.  I,  I  thought  I  should  have  you. 
1st.  Fay.  Wilt  please  you  daunce,  sir  ? 

Joculo.  Indeed,  sir,  1  cannot  handle  my  legges. 
2d.  Fay.  O  you  must  needs  daunce  and  sing, 

Which  if  you  refuse  to  doo, 

We  will  pinch  you  blacke  and  blew, 

And  about  we  goe. 

[They  all  daunce  in  a  ring,  and  sing  as  followeth  :] 


POPULAR  SUPERSTITIONS.  99 

Round  about,  round  about  in  a  fine  ring  a, 

Thus  we  daunce,  thus  we  daunce,  and  thus  we  sing  a, 

Trip  and  go,  too  and  fro,  over  this  greene  a  : 

All  about,  in  and  out,  for  our  brave  queen  a,  &c. 


A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN. 


I'm  a  rogue  if  I  do  not  think  I  was  designed  for  the  helm  of  state ; 
I  am  so  full  of  nimble  stratagems  that  I  should  have  ordered  affairs 
and  carried  it  against  the  stream  of  a  faction  with  as  much  ease  as  a 
skipper  would  laver  against  the  wind. 

THE  GOBLINS. 


IN  one  of  my  visits  to  the  village  with  Master 
Simon,  he  proposed  that  we  should  stop  at  the 
inn,  which  he  wanted  to  show  me,  as  a  specimen 
of  a  real  country  inn,  the  head  quarters  of  vil 
lage  gossip.  I  had  remarked  it  before,  in  my 
perambulations  about  the  place.  It  has  a  deep 
old  fashioned  porch ;  leading  into  a  large  hall, 
which  serves  for  a  tap  room  and  traveller's  room, 
having  a  wide  fireplace,  with  high-backed  set 
tles  on  each  side ;  where  the  wise  men  of  the 
village  gossip  over  their  ale,  and  hold  their  ses 
sions  during  the  long  winter  evenings.  The 


A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN.  101 

landlord  is  an  easy  indolent  fellow,  shaped  a  lit 
tle  like  one  of  his  own  beer  barrels,  who  is  apt 
to  stand  gossiping  at  his  door,  with  his  wig  on 
one  side,  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  whilst  his 
wife  and  daughter  attend  to  customers.  His 
wife,  however,  is  fully  competent  to  manage  the 
establishment ;  and,  indeed,  from  long  habitude, 
rules  over  all  the  frequenters  of  the  tap  room  as 
completely  as  if  they  were  her  dependents,  in 
stead  of  her  patrons.  Not  a  veteran  ale  bibber 
but  pays  homage  to  her,  having  no  doubt  been 
often  in  her  arrears.  I  have  already  hinted  that 
she  is  on  very  good  terms  with  Ready  Money 
Jack.  He  was  a  sweetheart  of  her's  in  early 
life,  and  has  always  countenanced  the  tavern  on 
her  account.  Indeed,  he  is  quite  the  "  cock  of 
the  walk"  at  the  tap  room. 

As  we  approached  the  inn,  we  heard  some 
one  talk  with  great  volubility,  and  distinguished 
the  cminous  words,  "  taxes,"  "  poor's  rates," 
and  "  agricultural  distress."  It  proved  to  be  a 
thin  loquacious  fellow,  who  had  got  the  landlord 
pinned  up  in  one  corner  of  the  porch,  with  his 


102  A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN. 

hands  in  his  pockets  as  usual,  listening  with  an 
air  of  the  most  vacant  acquiescence. 

The  sight  seemed  to  have  a  curious  effect  on 
Master  Simon,  as  he  squeezed  my  arm,  and,  al 
tering  his  course,  sheered  wide  of  the  porch  as 
though  he  had  not  had  any  idea  of  entering. 
This  evident  evasion  made  me  notice  the  orator 
more  particularly.  He  was  meagre,  but  active 
in  his  make,  with  a  long,  pale,  bilious  face;  a 
black  beard,  so  ill  shaven  as  to  bloody  his  shirt- 
collar,  a  feverish  eye,  and  a  hat  sharpened  up  at 
the  sides  into  a  most  pragmatical  shape.  He 
had  a  newspaper  in  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  be 
commenting  on  its  contents,  to  the  thorough  con 
viction  of  mine  host.  At  the  sight  of  Master 
Simon,  the  landlord  was  a  little  flurried,  and 
began  to  rub  his  hands,  edge  away  from  his  cor 
ner,  and  make  several  profound  publican  bows ; 
while  the  orator  took  no  other  notice  of  my  com 
panion  than  to  talk  rather  louder  than  before, 
and  with,  as  I  thought,  something  of  an  air  of 
defiance.  Master  Simon,  however,  as  I  have 
before  said,  sheered  off  from  the  porch  and  pass- 


A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN.  103 

ed  on,  pressing  my  arm  within  his,  and  whis 
pering  as  we  got  by,  in  a  tone  of  awe  and  hor 
ror,  "  that's  a  radical !  he  reads  Cobbett  !" 

I  endeavoured  to  get  a  more  particular  ac 
count  of  him  from  my  companion ;  but  he 
seemed  unwilling  even  to  talk  about  him,  as 
suring  me  only  in  general  terms,  that  he  was 
"  a  cursed  busy  fellow,  that  had  a  confounded 
trick  of  talking,  and  was  apt  to  bother  one 
about  the  national  debt,  and  such  nonsense ;" 
from  which  I  suspected  that  Master  Simon  had 
been  rendered  wary  of  him  by  some  accidental 
encounter  on  the  field  of  argument ;  for  these 
radicals  are  continually  roving  about  in  quest  of 
wordy  warfare,  and  never  so  happy  as  when 
they  can  tilt  a  gentleman  logician  out  of  his 
saddle. 

On  subsequent  inquiry  my  suspicions  have 
been  confirmed.  I  find  the  radical  has  but  re 
cently  found  his  way  into  the  village,  where  he 
threatens  to  commit  fearful  devastation  with  his 
doctrines.  He  has  already  made  two  or  three 
complete  converts  or  new  lights  ;  has  shaken  the 


104  A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN. 

faith  of  several  others ;  and  has  grievously  puz- 
*     zled  the  brains  of  many  of  the  oldest  villagers, 
who  had  never  thought  about  politics  or  scarce 
any  thing  else  during  their  whole  lives. 

He  is  lean  and  meagre,  from  the  constant  rest 
lessness  of  mind  and  body ;  worrying  about  with 
newspapers  and  pamphlets  in  his  pockets,  which 
he  is  ready  to  pull  out  on  all  occasions.  He  has 
shocked  several  of  the  staunchest  villagers  by 
talking  lightly  of  the  Squire  and  his  family,  and 
hinting  it  would  be  better  the  park  should  be 
cut  up  into  small  farms  and  kitchen  gardens,  or 
feed  good  mutton  instead  of  worthless  deer. 

He  is  a  great  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  Squire, 
who  is  sadly  afraid  he  will  introduce  politics  into 
the  village,  and  turn  it  into  an  unhappy,  think 
ing  community.  He  is  a  still  greater  grievance 
to  Master  Simon,  who  has  hitherto  been  able  to 
sway  the  political  opinions  of  the  place  without 
much  cost  of  learning  or  of  logic  ;  but  has  been 
very  much  puzzled,  of  late,  to  weed  out  the  doubts 
and  heresies  already  sown  by  this  champion  of 

reform.     Indeed,  the  latter  has  taken  complete 

. 


A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN.  105 

command  at  the  tap  room  of  the  tavern,  not  so 
much  because  he  has  convinced,  as  because  he 
has  out  talked  all  the  old  established  oracles. 
The  apothecary,  with  all  his  philosophy,  has 
been  as  naught  before  him.  He  has  convinced 
and  converted  the  landlord,  at  least  a  dozen  times, 
who,  however,  is  liable  to  be  convinced  and  con 
verted  the  other  way  by  the  next  person  with 
whom  he  talks.  It  is  true,  the  radical  has  a  vio 
lent  antagonist  in  the  landlady,  who  is  vehement 
ly  loyal,  and  thoroughly  devoted  to  the  king, 
Master  Simon,  and  the  Squire.  She  now  and 
then  comes  out  upon  the  reformer,  with  all  the 
the  fierceness  of  a  cat-a- mountain  ;  and  does  not 
spare  her  own  soft  headed  husband,  for  listening 
to  what  she  terms  such  "  low  lived  politics." 
What  makes  the  good  woman  the  more  violent, 
is  the  perfect  coolness  with  which  the  radical 
listens  to  her  attacks;  drawing  his  face  up  into 
a  provoking  supercilious  smile ;  and  when  she 
has  talked  herself  out  of  breath,  quietly  asking 
her  for  a  taste  of  her  home-brewed. 

The  only  person  that  is  in  any  way  a  match 

VOL.  II.  14 


106  A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN, 

for  this  redoubtable  politician  is  Ready  Money 
Jack  Tibbets ;  who  maintains  his  stand  in  the 
tap  room  in  defiance  of  the  radical  and  all  his 
works.  Jack  is  one  of  the  most  loyal  men  in  the 
country,  without  being  able  to  reason  about  the 
matter.  He  has  that  admirable  quality  for  a 
tough  arguer,  also,  that  he  never  knows  when 
he  is  beat.  He  has  half  a  dozen  old  maxims, 
which  he  advances  on  all  occasions ;  and  though 
his  antagonist  may  overturn  them  never  so  often, 
yet  he  always  brings  them  anew  to  the  field. 
He  is  like  the  robber  in  Ariosto,  who,  though 
his  head  might  be  cut  off  half  a  hundred  times, 
yet  whipped  it  on  his  shoulders  again  in  a  twin 
kling,  and  returned  as  sound  a  man  as  ever  to  the 
charge. 

Whatever  does  not  square  with  Jack's  simple 
and  obvious  creed  he  sets  down  for  "  French 
politics,"  for,  notwithstanding  the  peace,  he 
cannot  be  persuaded  the  French  are  not  still 
laying  plots  to  ruin  the  nation  and  get  hold  of  the 
Bank  of  England.  The  radical  attempted  to 
overwhelm  him  one  day  by  a  long  passage  from 


A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN.  107 

%  ' 

a  newspaper,  but  Jack  neither  reads  nor  be 
lieves  in  newspapers.  In  reply,  he  gave  him 
one  of  the  stanzas  which  he  has  by  heart  from 
his  favourite,  and  indeed  only  author,  old  Tus- 
ser,  and  which  he  calls  his  golden  rules : 

Leave  princes'  affairs  undescanted  on, 
And  tend  to  such  doings  as  stand  thee  upon, 
Fear  God  and  offend  not  the  king  nor  his  laws, 
And  keep  thyself  out  of  the  magistrate's  claws. 

When  Tibbets  had  pronounced  this  with  great 
emphasis,  he  pulled  out  a  well-filled  leathern 
purse  ;  took  out  a  handful  of  gold  and  silver, 
paid  his  score  at  the  bar  with  great  punctuality, 
returned  his  money,  piece  by  piece,  into  his 
purse,  his  purse  into  his  pocket,  which  he  but 
toned  up ;  and  then,  giving  his  cudgel  a  stout 
thump  upon  the  floor,  and  bidding  the  radi 
cal  "  good  morning,  sir,"  with  the  tone  of 
a  man  who  conceives  he  has  completely  done 
for  his  antagonist,  he  walked  with  lion-like  gra 
vity  out  of  the  house.  Two  or  three  of  Jack's 
admirers  who  were  present,  and  were  afraid 
to  take  the  field  themselves,  looked  upon  this 


108  A  VILLAGE  POLITICIAN. 

as  a  perfect  triumph,  and  winked  at  each  other, 
when  the  radical's  back  was  turned.  "  Aye, 
aye!"  said  mine  host,  as  soon  as  the  radical 
was  out  of  hearing,  "  let  old  Jack  alone,  I'll 
warrant  he'll  give  him  his  own." 


TRAVELLING. 


A  citizen,  for  recreation  sake, 

To  see  the  country,  would  a  journey  take 

Some  dozen  mile,  or  very  little  more, 

Taking  his  leave  with  friends  two  months  before, 

With  drinking  healths,  and  shaking  by  the  hand, 

As  he  had  travail'd  to  some  new-found  land. 

DOCTOR  MIRRIE-MAW,  1609. 


THE  Squire  has  lately  received  another  shock 
in  the  saddle,  and  been  almost  unseated  by  his 
marplot  neighbour,  the  indefatigable  Mr.  Faddy, 
who  rides  his  jog-trot  hobby  with  equal  zeal, 
and  is  so  bent  upon  improving  and  reforming 
the  neighbourhood,  that  the  Squire  thinks  in  a 
little  while  it  will  be  scarce  worth  living  in.  The 
enormity  that  has  just  discomposed  my  worthy 
host,  is  an  attempt  of  the  manufacturer  to  have 
a  line  of  coaches  established,  that  shall  diverge 


110  TRAVELLING. 

from  the  old  route,  and  pass  through  the  neigh 
bouring  village.  I  believe  1  have  mentioned  that 
the  Hall  is  situated  in  a  retired  part  of  the  coun 
try,  at  a  distance  from  any  great  coach  road  ;  in 
so  much  that  the  arrival  of  a  traveller  is  apt  to 
make  every  one  look  out  of  the  window,  and  to 
cause  some  talk  among  the  ale  drinkers  at  the 
little  inn.  I  was  at  a  loss,  therefore,  to  account 
for  the  Squire's  indignation  at  a  measure  appa 
rently  fraught  with  convenience  and  advantage, 
until  I  found  that  the  conveniences  of  travelling 
were  among  his  greatest  grievances. 

In  fact,  he  rails  against  stage  coaches,  post 
chaises,  and  turnpike  roads,  as  serious  causes  of 
the  corruption  of  English  rural  manners.  They 
have  given  facilities,  he  says,  to  every  hum -drum 
citizen  to  trundle  his  family  about  the  kingdom, 
and  have  sent  the  follies  and  fashions  of  town 
whirling  in  coach  loads  to  the  remotest  parts  of 
the  island.  The  whole  country,  he  says,  is  tra 
versed  by  these  flying  cargoes  ;  every  by-road  is 
explored  by  enterprizing  tourists  from  Cheapside 
and  the  Poultry ;  and  every  gentleman's  park 


, 

TRAVELLING.  Ill 

and  lawns  invaded  by  cockney  sketchers  of  both 
sexes,  with  portable  chairs  and  portfolios  for 
drawing. 

He  laments  over  this  as  destroying  the  charm 
of  privacy,  and  interrupting  the  quiet  of  coun 
try  life;  but  more  especially  as  affecting  the 
simplicity  of  the  peasantry,  and  filling  their 
heads  with  half  city  notions.  A  great  coach 
inn,  he  says,  is  enough  to  ruin  the  manners  of 
a  whole  village.  It  creates  a  horde  of  sots  and 
idlers ;  makes  gapers,  and  gazers,  and  news 
mongers  of  the  common  people,  and  knowing 
jockies  of  the  country  bumpkins.  The  Squire 
has  something  of  the  old  feudal  feeling.  He 
looks  back  with  regret  to  the  "  good  old  times," 
when  journeys  were  only  made  on  horseback, 
and  the  extraordinary  difficulties  of  travelling, 
owing  to  bad  roads,  bad  accommodations,  and 
highway  robbers,  seemed  to  separate  each  vil 
lage  and  hamlet  from  the  rest  of  the  world. 

The  lord  of  the  manor  was  then  a  kind  of 
monarch  in  the  little  realm  around  him.  He 
held  his  court  in  his  paternal  hall,  and  was 


112  TRAVELLING. 

looked  up  to  with  almost  as  much  loyalty  and 
deference  as  the  king  himself.  Every  neighbour 
hood  was  a  little  world  within  itself;  having  its 
local  manners  and  customs ;  its  local  history  and 
local  opinions.  The  inhabitants  were  fonder  of 
their  homes,  and  thought  less  of  wandering.  It 
was  looked  upon  as  an  expedition  to  travel 
out  of  sight  of  the  parish  steeple ;  and  a  man 
that  had  been  to  London  wras  a  village  oracle  for 
the  rest  of  his  life. 

What  a  difference  between  the  mode  of  tra 
velling  in  those  days  and  at  present ;  at  that 
time,  when  a  gentlemen  went  on  a  distant  visit, 
he  set  forth  like  a  knight  errant  on  an  enter- 
prize  ;  and  every  family  excursion  was  a  pa 
geant.  How  splendid  and  fanciful  must  one  of 
those  domestic  cavalcades  have  been.  When 
the  beautiful  dames  were  mounted  on  palfreys 
magnificently  caparisor  i,  with  embroidered 
harness,  all  tinkling  with  silver  bells ;  attended 
by  cavaliers  richly  attired,  on  prancing  steeds, 
and  followed  by  pages  and  serving  men,  as  we 
see  them  represented  in  old  tapestry.  The  gen- 


TRAVELLING.  113 

try,  as  they  travelled  about  in  those  days,  were 
like  moving  pictures.  They  delighted  the  eyes 
and  awakened  the  admiration  of  the  common 
people,  and  passed  before  them  like  superior 
beings  ;  and  they  were  so ;  there  was  a  hardy 
and  healthful  exercise  connected  with  this 
equestrian  style,  that  made  them  generous  and 
noble. 

In  his  fondness  for  the  old  style  of  travelling 
the  Squire  makes  most  of  his  journeys  on  horse 
back  ;  though  he  laments  the  modern  deficiency 
of  incident  on  the  road,  from  the  want  of  fel 
low  wayfarers,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  every 
one  else  is  whirled  along  in  coaches  and  post 
chaises.    In  the  "  good  old  times,"  on  the  con 
trary,  a  cavalier  jogged  on  through  bog  and  mire 
from  town  to  town,  and  hamlet  to  hamlet,  con 
versing  with  friars  and  Franklins,  and  all  other 
chance  companions    f  the  road  ;  beguiling  the 
way  with  travellers'  tales,  which  then  were  truly 
wonderful,  for  every  thing  beyond  one's  neigh 
bourhood  was  full  of  marvel  and  romance  ;  stop- 

VOL.  II.  16 


114  TRAVELLING. 

ing  at  night  at  some  "  hostel,"  where  the  bush 
over  the  door  proclaimed  good  wine,  or  a  pret 
ty  hostess  made  bad  wine  palatable ;  meeting  at 
supper  with  travellers  like  himself;  discussing 
their  day's  adventures,  or  listening  to  the  song 
or  merry  story  of  the  host,  who  was  generally  a 
boon  companion,  and  presided  at  his  own 
board;  for, according  to  old  Tusser's  "Innhold- 
er's  Posie  :" 

At  meales  my  friend  who  vitleth  here 

And  sitteth  with  his  host, 
Shall  both  be  sure  of  belter  cheere, 

And  'scape  with  lesser  cost. 

The  Squire  is  fond,  too,  of  stopping  at  those 
inns  which  may  be  met  with  here  and  there,  in 
ancient  houses  of  wood  and  plaister,  or  Calli- 
manco  houses,  as  they  are  called  by  antiquaries, 
with  deep  porches,  diamond-paned  bow  win 
dows,  and  panelled  rooms  and  great  fireplaces. 
He  will  prefer  them  to  more  spacious  and  mo 
dern  inns,  and  will  cheerfully  put  up  with  bad 
cheer  and  bad  accommodations,  in  the  gratifica 
tion  of  his  humour.  They  give  him,  he  says, 


TRAVELLING.  115 

the  feeling  of  old  times,  insomuch  that  he  al 
most  expects  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  to  see 
some  party  of  weary  travellers  ride  up  to  the 
door,  with  plumes,  and  mantles,  trunk  hose,  wide 
boots,  and  long  rapiers. 

The  good  Squire's  remarks  brought  to  mind 
a  visit  which  I  once  paid  to  the  Tabard  Inn,  fa 
mous  for  being  the  place  of  assemblage,  from 
whence  Chaucer's  pilgrims  set  forth  for  Canter 
bury.     It  is  in  the  borough  of  Southwark,  not 
far  from  London  bridge,   and  bears,  at  present, 
the  name  of  "  the  Talbot."  It  has  sadly  declined 
in  dignity  since  the  days  of  Chaucer,  being  a 
mere  rendezvous  and  packing  place  of  the  great 
wagons  that  travel  into  Kent.     The  court  yard, 
which  was  anciently  the  mustering  place  of  the 
pilgrims  previous  to  their  departure,  was  now 
lumbered  with  huge  wagons.      Crates,  boxes, 
hampers  and  baskets,  containing  the  good  things 
of  town  and  country,  were  piled  about  them ; 
while,  among  the  straw  and  litter,  the  motherly 
hens  scratched  and  clucked,  with  their  hungry 
broods  at  their   heels.     Instead   of  Chaucer's 


116  TRAVELLING. 

motly  and  splendid  throng,  I  only  saw  a  group 
of  wagoners  and  stable  boys,  enjoying  a  circu 
lating  pot  of  ale ;  while  a  long  bodied  dog  sat 
by,  with  head  on  one  side,  one  ear  cocked  up, 
and  wistful  gaze,  as  if  waiting  for  his  turn  of 
the  tankard. 

Notwithstanding  this  grievous  declension, 
however,  I  was  gratified  at  perceiving  that  the 
present  occupants  were  not  unconscious  of  the 
poetical  renown  of  their  mansion. 

An  inscription  over  the  gate-way  proclaimed 
it  to  be  the  inn  where  Chaucer's  pilgrims  slept 
on  the  night  previous  to  their  departure,  and  at 
the  bottom  of  the  yard  was  a  magnificent  sign, 
representing  them  in  the  act  of  sallying  forth. 

I  was  pleased  too  at  noticing,  that  though  the 
present  inn  was  comparatively  modern,  yet 
the  form  of  the  old  inn  was  preserved.  There 
were  galleries  round  the  yard,  as  in  old  times,  on 
which  opened  the  chambers  of  the  guests.  To 
these  ancient  inns  have  antiquaries  ascribed  the 
present  forms  of  our  theatres.  Plays  were  origi 
nally  acted  in  inn  yards. 


TRAVELLING.  117 

The  guests  lolled  over  the  galleries,  which 
answered  to  our  modern  dress  circle  ;  the  critical 
mob  clustered  in  the  yard  instead  of  the  pit ;  and 
the  groups  gazing  from  the  garret  windows  were 
no  bad  representatives  of  the  gods  of  the  shilling 
gallery.  When,  therefore,  the  drama  grew  im 
portant  enough  to  have  a  house  of  its  own,  the 
architects  took  a  hint  for  its  construction  from 
the  yard  of  the  ancient  "  Hostel." 

I  was  so  well  pleased  at  finding  these  remem 
brances  of  Chaucer  and  his  poem,  that  I  took  my 
dinner  in  the  little  parlour  of  the  Talbot.  Whilst 
it  was  preparing,  I  sat  by  the  window  musing  and 
gazing  into  the  court  yard,  and  conjuring  up  re 
collections  of  the  scenes  depicted  in  such  lively 
colours  by  the  poet,  until  by  degrees  bales,  boxes, 
and  hampers,  boys,  wagoners,  and  dogs,  faded 
from  sight,  and  my  fancy  peopled  the  place  with 
the  motly  throng  of  Canterbury  pilgrims.  The 
galleries  once  more  swarmed  with  idle  gazers, 
in  the  rich  dresses  of  Chaucer's  time,  and  the 
whole  cavalcade  seemed  to  pass  before  me. 
There  was  the  stately  knight  on  sober  steed,  who 


118  TRAVELLING. 

had  ridden  in  Heathenesse,  and  had  "  foughten 
for  our  faith  at  Tramissene."      And  his  son,  the 
young  Squire,  a  lover  and  a  lusty  bachelor,  with 
curled  locks  and  gay  embroidery,  a  bold  rider,  a 
dancer,  and  a  writer  of  verses,  singing  and  fluting 
all  day  long,  and  "fresh  as  the  month  of  May." 
And  his  "  knot  beaded"  yeoman,  a  bold  forester  in 
green,  with  horn  and  baldric  and  dagger,  a  mighty 
bow  in  hand,  and  a   sheaf  of  peacock  arrows 
shining  beneath  his  belt.     And  the  coy,  smiling, 
simple  nun,  with  her  gray  eyes,  her  small  red 
mouth,  and  fair  forehead,  her  coral  beads  about 
her  arm,  her  golden  broach  with  a  love  motto, 
and  her  pretty  oath  "  by  Saint  Eloy."     And  the 
marchant  solemn  in  speech  and  high  on  horse, 
with  forked  beard  and  "  Flaunderish  bever  hat." 
And  the  sleek  lusty  monk,  on  berry  brown  pal 
frey  ;  his  hood  fastened   with  gold  pin  wrought 
with  a  love  knot,   his  bald  head  shining  like 
glass,   and  his  face  glistening  as  though  it  had 
been  anointed.     And  the  lean,  logical,  senten 
tious  clerke  of  Oxenforde  upon  his  half-starved 
scholar-like  horse.     And  the  bowsing  sompnour? 


TRAVELLING.  119 

with  fiery  cherub  face,  all  knobbed  with  pirn- 
pies;  an  eater  of  garlic  and  onions,  and  drinker 
of  "  strong  wine  red  as  blood,"  that  carried  a 
cake  for  a  buckler,  and  babbled  Latin  in  his 
cups,  of  whose  brimstone  visage  "  children 
were  sore  afferd."  And  the  buxom  wife  of 
Bath,  the  widow  of  five  husbands,  upon  her 
ambling  nag,  with  her  hat  broad  as  a  buck 
ler,  her  red  stockings  and  sharp  spurs.  And 
the  slender  choleric  reeve  of  Norfolk,  with 
close  shaven  beard  and  hair  cropped  round 
his  ears,  and  long  lean,  calfless  legs,  a  rusty 
blade  by  his  side,  bestriding  his  good  gray  stot. 
And  the  jolly  Limitour,  with  lisping  tongue  and 
twinkling  eye,  well  beloved  of  Franklins  and 
housewives ;  a  great  promoter  of  marriages 
among  young  women  ;  known  at  the  taverns  in 
every  town,  and  by  every  "  hosteller  and  gay 
tapstere."  In  short,  before  I  was  roused  from 
my  reverie  by  the  less  poetical,  but  more  sub 
stantial  apparition  of  a  smoking  beef  steak,  1 
had  seen  the  whole  cavalcade  issue  forth  from 
the  hostel  gate,  with  the  brawny,  double  jointed, 


TRAVELLING. 

red  haired  miller  playing  the  bag-pipes  before 
them,  and  the  ancient  host  of  the  Tabard,  giving 
them  his  farewell  God-send  to  Canterbury. 

When  I  told  the  Squire  of  the  existence  of 
this  legitimate  descendant  of  the  ancient  Tabard 
Inn,  his  eyes  absolutely  glistened  with  delight. 
He  determined  to  hunt  it  up  the  very  first  time 
he  visited  London,  and  to  eat  a  dinner  there,  and 
drink  a  cup  of  mine  host's  best  wine,  in  memory 
of  old  Chaucer. 

The  general,  who  happened  to  be  present,  im 
mediately  begged  to  be  of  the  party,  for  he  liked 
to  encourage  these  long  established  houses,  as 
they  are  apt  to  have  choice  old  wines. 


MAY-DAY. 


£?ow  the  bright  morning  star,  day's  harbinger, 
Comes  dancing  from  the  east,  and  leads  with  her 
The  flow'ry  May,  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip  and  the  pale  primrose. 

Hail  bounteous  May !  that  dost  inspire 

Mirth  and  youth  and  warm  desire; 

Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing, 

Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing. 

MILTON.' 


As  I  was  lying  in  bed  this  morning,  enjoying 
one  of  those  half  dreams,  half  reveries,  which 
are  so  pleasant  in  the  country,  when  the  birds  are 
singing  about  the  window,  and  the  sunbeams 
peeping  through  the  curtains,  I  was  roused  by 
the  sound  of  music.  On  going  down  stairs  I 
found  a  number  of  villagers,  drest  in  their  holy- 
day  clothes,  bearing  a  pole  ornamented  with  gar 
lands  and  ribbands,  and  accompanied  by  the  vil- 

VOL.  II.  16 


122  MAY-DAY. 

lage  band  of  music  under  the  direction  of  the 
tailor,  the  pale  fellow  who  plays  on  the  clarionet. 
They  had  all  sprigs  of  hawthorn,  or  as  it  is  cal 
led,  "  the  May,"  in  their  hats,  and  had  brought 
green  branches  and  flowers  to  decorate  the  Hall 
door  and  windows.  They  had  come  to  give  no 
tice  that  the  May-pole  was  reared  on  the  green, 
and  to  invite  the  household  to  witness  the  sports. 
The  Hall,  according  to  custom,  became  a  scene 
of  hurry  and  delighted  confusion.  The  servants 
were  all  agog  with  May  and  music  ;  and  there 
was  no  keeping  the  tongues  or  the  feet  of  the 
maids  quiet,  who  were  anticipating  the  sports  of 
the  green,  and  the  evening  dance. 

I  repaired  to  the  village  at  an  early  hour  to 
enjoy  the  merry-making.  The  morning  was 
pure  and  sunny,  such  as  a  May-morning  is  always 
described.  The  fields  were  white  with  daisies  ; 
the  hawthorn  was  covered  with  its  fragrant  blos 
soms;  the  bee  hummed  about  every  bank,  and 
the  swallow  played  high  in  the  air  about  the  vil 
lage  steeple.  It  was  one  of  those  days  when 
we  seem  to  draw  in  pleasure  with  the  very  air 


MAY-DAY.  123 

we  breathe,  and  to  feel  happy  we  know  not  why. 
Whoever  has  felt  the  worth  of  worthy  man,  or 
has  doated  on  lovely  woman,  will,  on  such  a  day, 
call  them  tenderly  to  mind,  and  feel  his  heart  all 
alive  with  long  buried  recollections. 

Before  reaching  the  village  I  saw  the  May 
pole,  towering  above  the  cottages,  with  its  gay 
garlands  and  streamers,  and  heard  the  sound  of 
music.  I  found  that  there  had  been  booths  set 
up  near  it,  for  the  reception  of  company,  and  a 
bower  of  green  branches  and  flowers  for  the 
Queen  of  May,  a  fresh  rosy-cheeked  girl  of  the 
village. 

A  band  of  morrice  dancers  were  capering  on 
the  green  in  their  fantastic  dresses,  jingling  with 
hawks'  bells,  with  a  boy  dressed  up  as  Maid 
Marian,  and  the  attendant  fool  rattling  his  box 
to  collect  contributions  from  the  bystanders. 

I  noticed,  also,  the  gipsy  women,  already 
plying  their  mystery  in  byecorners  of  the  vil 
lage,  reading  the  hands  of  the  simple  country 
girls,  and  no  doubt  promising  them  all  good 
husbands  and  tribes  of  children. 


124  MAY-DAY. 

The  Squire  made  his  appearance  in  the 
course  of  the  morning,  attended  by  the  parson, 
and  was  received  with  loud  acclamations.  He 
mingled  among  the  country  people,  throughout 
the  day,  giving  and  receiving  pleasure  wherever 
he  went. 

The  amusements  of  the  day  were  under  the 
management  of  Slingsby,  the  schoolmaster ; 
who  is  not  merely  "  lord  of  misrule"  in  his 
school,  but  likewise  master  of  the  revels  to  the 
village.  He  was  bustling  about  with  the  per 
plexed  and  anxious  air  of  a  man  who  has  the 
oppressive  burthen  of  promoting  other  people's 
merriment  upon  his  mind.  He  had  involved 
himself  in  a  dozen  scrapes,  in  consequence  of 
a  politic  intrigue ;  which,  by  the  bye,  Master 
Simon  and  the  Oxonian  were  at  the  bottom  of, 
which  had  for  object  the  election  of  the  Queen 
of  May.  He  had  met  with  violent  opposition 
from  a  faction  of  ale  drinkers,  who  were  in  favour 
of  a  bouncing  bar  maid,  the  daughter  of  the  ta 
vern  keeper ;  but  he  had  been  too  strongly  back 
ed  not  to  carry  his  point ;  though  it  shows  that 


MAY-DAY.  125 

these  crowns,  like  all  others,  are  objects  of 
great  ambition  and  heart  burning.  J  am  told 
that  Master  Simon  takes  great  interest,  though 
in  an  underhand  way,  in  the  election  of  these 
May  day  Queens,  and  that  the  chaplet  is  gene 
rally  secured  for  some  rustic  beauty  that  has 
found  favour  in  his  eyes. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  there  were  various 
games  of  strength  and  agility  on  the  green,  at 
which  a  knot  of  village  veterans  presided,  as 
judges  of  the  lists.  Among  these  I  perceived 
that  Ready  Money  Jack  took  the  lead,  looking 
with  a  learned  and  critical  eye  on  the  merits  of 
the  different  candidates.  His  hat  was  drawn  a 
little  on  one  side  over  his  brow,  which  gave 
additional  effect  to  his  decisions  ;  and  though  he 
was  very  laconic  and  sometimes  merely  expressed 
himself  by  a  nod  ;  yet  it  was  evident  that  his 
opinions  far  outweighed  those  of  the  most 
loquacious. 

Young  Jack  Tibbets  was  the  hero  of  the  day, 
and  carried  off  most  of  the  prizes ;  though  in 
some  of  the  feats  of  agility  he  was  rivalled  by  the 


126  MAY-DAY. 

prodigal  son,  who  appeared  much  in  his 
element  on  this  occasion  ;  but  his  most  formida 
ble  competitor  was  the  notorious  gipsy,  the  re 
doubtable  Star-light  Tom.  I  was  rejoiced  at 
having  an  opportunity  of  seeing  this  "  minion 
of  the  moon"  in  broad  daylight.  I  found  him 
to  be  a  tall,  swarthy,  good-looking  fellow,  with 
a  lofty,  air  something  like  I  have  seen  in  an  Indian 
chieftain,  and  with  a  certain  lounging,  easy,  and 
almost  graceful  carriage,  which  I  have  often  re 
marked  in  beings  of  the  lazaroni  order,  that 
lead  an  idle  loitering  life,  and  have  a  gentleman 
like  contempt  of  labour. 

Master  Simon  and  the  general  reconnoitred 
the  ground  together,  indulging  a  vast  deal  of 
harmless  raking  among  the  buxom  country  girls. 
Master  Simon  would  give  some  of  them  a  kiss 
on  meeting  with  them,  and  would  ask  after  their 
sisters,  for  he  is  acquainted  with  most  of  the  far 
mers'  families.  Sometimes  he  would  whisper 
and  affect  to  talk  mischievously  with  them,  and 
if  bantered  on  the  subject,  would  turn  it  off  with 
a  laugh ;  though  it  was  evident  he  liked  to  be 


MAY-DAY.  127 

suspected  of  being  a  gay  Lothario  amongst 
them. 

He  had  much  to  say  to  the  farmers  about  their 
farms,  and  seemed  to  know  all  their  horses  by 
name.  There  was  an  old  fellow  with  a  round 
ruddy  face  and  a  night  cap  under  his  hat,  who 
is  the  wit  of  the  village,  and  who  took  several 
occasions  to  crack  a  joke  with  Master  Simon  in 
the  hearing  of  his  companions,  to  whom  he 
would  turn  and  wink  hard  when  Master  Simon 
had  passed. 

The  harmony  of  the  day,  however,  had  nearly 
at  one  time  been  interrupted  by  the  appearance 
of  the  radical  on  the  ground  with  two  or  three 
of  his  disciples.  He  soon  got  engaged  in  argu 
ment  in  the  very  thick  of  the  throng,  above 
which  I  could  hear  his  voice,  and  now  and  then 
see  his  meagre  hand,  half  a  mile  out  of  the 
sleeve,  elevated  in  the  air  in  violent  gesticulation, 
and  flourishing  a  pamphlet  by  way  of  truncheon. 
He  was  decrying  these  idle  nonsensical  amuse 
ments  in  times  of  public  distress,  when  it  was 
every  one's  business  to  think  of  other  matters, 


128  MAY-DAY. 

and  to  be  miserable.     The  honest  village  logi 
cians  could  make  no  stand  against  him,  especially 
as  he  was  seconded  by  his  proselytes,  when,  to 
their  great  joy,  Master  Simon  and  the  general 
got  embroiled  in  the  discussion.     I  saw  that  the 
former  rather  entered  into   it  with  an  ill   grace, 
from  which  I  was  persuaded  that  he  must  before 
this  have  had  a  brush  with  the  radical ;  but  the 
general  was  too  loyal  to  suffer  such  talk  in  his 
hearing,  and  thought,  no  doubt,  that  a  look  and 
a  word  from  a  gentleman  would  be  sufficient  to 
shut  up  so  shabby  an  orator.     The  latter,  how 
ever,  was  no  respecter  of  persons,   but  rather 
seemed  to  exult  in  having  such  important  antago 
nists.     He  talked  with  greater  volubility  than 
ever,  and  soon  drowned  them  in  declamation  on 
the  subject  of  taxes,  poor's  rates,  and  the  na 
tional   debt.     Master    Simon    endeavoured    to 
brush  along  in  his  usual  excursive  manner,  which 
had  always  answered  amazingly  well  with  the 
villagers  ;  but  the  radical  was  one  of  those  pes 
tilent  fellows  that  pin  a  man  down  to  facts,  and, 
indeed,  he  had  two  or  three  pamphlets  in  his 


MAY-DAY.  129 

pocket  to  support  every  thing  he  advanced  by 
printed  documents.  In  a  word,  the  two  worthies 
from  the  Hall  were  completely  dumb-founded, 
and  this  too  in  the  presence  of  several  of  Master 
Simon's  staunch  admirers ;  who  had  always 
looked  up  to  him  as  infallible.  I  do  not  know 
how  he  and  the  general  would  have  managed  to 
draw  their  forces  decently  from  the  field,  had 
there  not  been  a  match  of  grinning  through  a 
horse-collar  announced  ;  whereupon  the  radical 
retired  with  great  expression  of  contempt ;  and  as 
soon  as  his  back  was  turned,  the  argument  was 
carried  against  him  all  hollow. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  day  the  ladies  from 
the  Hall  paid  a  visit  to  the  green.  The  fair 
Julia  made  her  appearance,  leaning  on  her  lo 
ver's  arm  ;  and  looking  extremely  pale  and 
interesting.  As  she  is  a  great  favourite  in 
the  village,  where  she  has  been  known  from 
childhood,  and  as  her  late  accident  had  been 
much  talked  about,  the  sight  of  her  caused  very 
manifest  delight,  and  some  of  the  old  women  of 
the  village  blessed  her  sweet  face  as  she  passed. 

VOL.  II.  17 


130  MAY -DAY. 

While  they  were  walking  about  I  noticed  the 
little  schoolmaster  in  earnest  conversation  with 
the  young  girl  that  represented  the  Queen  of 
May,  evidently  endeavouring  to  spirit  her  up  to 
some  formidable  undertaking.  At  length,  as  the 
party  from  the  Hall  approached  her  bower,  she 
came  forth,  faltering  at  every  step,  until  she 
reached  the  spot  where  the  fair  Julia  stood  be 
tween  her  lover  and  Lady  Lillycraft.  The  lit 
tle  queen  then  took  the  chaplet  of  flowers  from 
her  head,  and  attempted  to  put  it  on  that  of  the 
bride  elect ;  but  the  confusion  of  both  was  so 
great  that  the  wreath  would  have  fallen  to  the 
ground,  had  not  the  officer  caught  it,  and, 
laughing,  placed  it  upon  the  blushing  brows  of 
his  mistress.  There  was  something  charming 
in  the  very  embarrassment  of  these  two  young 
creatures,  both  so  beautiful,  yet  so  different  in 
their  kinds  of  beauty.  Master  Simon  told  me 
afterwards,  that  the  Queen  of  May  was  to  have 
spoken  a  few  verses  which  the  schoolmaster  had 
written  for  her  ;  but  that  she  had  neither  wit  to 
understand,  nor  memory  to  recollect  them. 


MAY-DAY.  131 

"  Besides,"  added  he,  "  between  you  and  I,  she 
murders  the  king's  English  abominably ;  so 
she  has  acted  the  part  of  a  wise  woman,  in 
holding  her  tongue  and  trusting  to  her  pretty 
face." 

Among  the  other  characters  from  the  Hall 
was  Mrs.  Hannah,  my  Lady  Lillycraft's  gen 
tlewoman  ;  to  my  surprise  she  was  escorted  by 
old  Christy,  the  huntsman,  and  followed  by  his 
ghost  of  a  grayhound  ;  but  I  find  they  are  very 
old  acquaintances,  being  drawn  together  by 
some  sympathy  of  disposition.  Mrs.  Hannah 
moved  about  with  starched  dignity  among  the 
rustics,  who  drew  back  from  her  with  more  awe 
than  they  did  from  her  mistress.  Her  mouth 
seemed  shut  as  with  a  clasp;  excepting  that  I 
now  and  then  heard  the  word  "fellows,"  escape 
from  between  her  lips,  as  she  got  accidentally 
jostled  in  the  crowd. 

But  there  was  one  other  heart  present  that  did 
not  enter  into  the  merriment  of  the  scene  ;  which 
was  that  of  the  simple  Phoebe  Wilkins,  the 
housekeeper's  niece.  The  poor  girl  has  con- 


MAY-DAY. 


tinued  to  pine  and  whine  for  some  time  past, 
in  consequence  of  the  obstinate  coldness  of  her 
lover  ;  never  was  a  little  flirtation  more  severely 
punished.  She  appeared  this  day  on  the  green, 
gallanted  by  a  smart  servant  out  of  livery,  and 
had  evidently  resolved  to  try  the  hazardous  ex 
periment  of  awakening  the  jealousy  of  her  lover. 
She  was  dressed  out  in  her  very  best  ;  affected 
an  air  of  great  gayety,  talked  loud  and  girlishly, 
and  laughed  when  there  was  nothing  to  laugh  at. 
There  was,  however,  an  aching  heavy  heart  in 
the  poor  baggage's  bosom,  under  all  this  levity. 
I  saw  her  eye,  in  the  midst  of  her  mirth,  turn 
with  an  anxious  expression  every  now  and  then 
in  quest  of  her  reckless  swain,  and  her  cheek 
turned  pale,  and  her  fictitious  gayety  vanished, 
on  his  paying  his  rustic  homage  to  the  little 
May-day  Queen. 

My  attention  was  now  diverted  by  a  fresh  stir 
and  bustle.  Music  was  heard  at  a  distance  ; 
a  banner  was  seen  advancing  up  the  road,  pre 
ceded  by  a  rustic  band  playing  something  like 
a  march,  and  followed  by  a  sturdy  throng,  the 


MAY-DAY.  133 

chivalry  of  a  neighbouring  and  rival  village. 
No  sooner  had  they  reached  the  green,  than  they 
challenged  the  heroes  of  the  day  to  new  trials  of 
strength  and  activity.  Several  gymnastic  con 
tests  ensued  for  the  honour  of  the  respective 
villages.  In  the  course  of  these  exercises  young 
Tibbets  and  the  champion  of  the  adverse  party 
had  an  obstinate  match  at  wrestling.  They 
tugged,  and  strained,  and  panted,  without  either 
getting  the  mastery,  until  both  came  to  the 
ground,  and  rolled  upon  the  green. 

Just  then  the  disconsolate  Phoebe  came  by. 
She  saw  her  recreant  lover,  in  fierce  contest,  as 
she  thought,  and  in  danger.  In  a  moment,  pride, 
pique,  and  coquetry  were  forgotten ;  she  darted 
into  the  ring,  seized  upon  the  rival  champion  by 
the  hair,  and  was  on  the  point  of  wreaking  on 
him  her  puny  vengeance,  when  a  buxom,  strap 
ping  country  lass,  the  sweetheart  of  the  prostrate 
swain,  pounced  upon  her  like  a  hawk,  and  would 
have  stripped  her  of  her  fine  plumage  in  an  in 
stant,  had  she  not  been  seized  in  her  turn. 

A  complete  tumult  ensued.     The  chivalry  of 


134  MAY-DAY. 

the  two  villages  became  embroiled.  Blows 
began  to  be  dealt,  and,  sticks  to  be  flourished. 
Phoebe  was  carried  off  from  the  field  in  hysterics. 
In  vain  did  the  sages  of  the  village  interfere. 
I  saw  the  sententious  apothecary  tumbled  into 
the  dirt  as  he  was  endeavouring  to  spread  the  oil 
of  wisdom  over  this  tempestuous  sea  of  passion. 

Slingsby,  who  is  a  great  lover  of  peace,  went 
into  the  midst  of  the  throng,  as  marshal  of  the 
day,  to  put  an  end  to  the  commotion,  but  was 
speedily  rent  in  twain,  and  came  out  with  his 
garment  hanging  in  two  strips  from  his  shoul 
ders  ;  while  the  prodigal  son  dashed  in  with  fury 
to  revenge  the  insult  which  his  patron  had  sus 
tained. 

The  tumult  thickened.  I  caught  glimpses  of 
the  jockey  cap  of  old  Christy,  like  the  helmet  of 
a  chieftain,  bobbing  about  in  the  midst  of  the 
scuffle ;  while  Mistress  Hannah,  separated  from 
her  doughty  protector,  was  squalling  and  striking 
at  right  and  left  with  a  faded  parasol,  being  toss 
ed  and  tousled  about  by  the  crowd,  in  such  wise 
as  was  never  maiden  gentlewoman  before. 


MAY-DAY.  135 

At  length  I  beheld  old  Ready  Money  Jack 
making  his  way  into  the  very  thickest  of  the 
throng  ;  tearing  it,  as  it  were,  apart,  and  enfor 
cing  peace  vi  et  armis.  It  was  surprising  to  see 
the  sudden  quiet  that  ensued.  The  storm  settled 
down  into  tranquillity.  The  parties  having  no 
real  grounds  of  hostility,  became  readily  pacified, 
and  in  fact  were  a  little  at  a  loss  to  know  why 
they  had  got  by  the  ears.  The  schoolmaster 
was  pinned  together  again  by  his  wife ;  Mrs. 
Hannah  drew  on  one  side,  to  plume  her  rumpled 
feathers,  and  then  swept  back  again  to  the  Hall, 
ten  times  more  bitter  against  mankind  than  ever. 

The  Tibbets'  family  alone  seemed  slow  in  re 
covering  from  the  agitation  of  the  scene.  Young 
Jack  was  evidently  very  much  moved  by  the  he 
roism  of  the  unlucky  Phoebe.  His  mother, 
who  had  been  summoned  to  the  field  of  action 
by  news  of  the  affray,  was  in  a  sad  panic ;  and 
had  need  of  all  her  management  to  keep  him 
from  following  his  mistress  and  having  a  perfect 
reconciliation. 


136  MAY-DAY. 

What  heightened  the  alarm  and  perplexity  of 
the  good  managing  dame  was,  that  the  matter 
had  aroused  the  slow  apprehension  of  old 
Ready  Money  himself,  who  was  very  much 
struck  by  the  intrepid  interference  of  so  pretty 
and  delicate  a  girl,  and  was  sadly  puzzled  to  un 
derstand  the  meaning  of  the  violent  agitation  in 
his  family. 

When  all  this  came  to  the  ears  of  the  Squire, 
he  was  grievously  scandalized  that  his  May-day 
fete  should  have  been  disgraced  by  such  a  brawl. 
He  ordered  Phoebe  to  appear  before  him,  but  the 
girl  was  so  frightened  and  distressed  that  she 
appeared  sobbing  and  trembling,  and  could  make 
no  answer  to  his  questions. 

Lady  Lillycraft,  who  had  understood  there 
was  an  affair  of  the  heart  at  the  bottom  of  this 
distress,  immediately  took  the  girl  into  great 
favour  and  protection,  and  made  her  peace  with 
the  Squire. 

This  was  the  only  thing  that  disturbed  the  har 
mony  of  the  day,  if  we  except  the  discomfiture 
of  Master  Simon  and  the  general  by  the  radical. 


MAT-DAY.  137 

Upon  the  whole,  therefore,  the  Squire  had  very 
fair  reason  to  be  satisfied  that  he  had  rode  his 
hobby  throughout  the  day  without  any  other 
molestation. 

The  reader,  learned  in  these  matters,  will  per 
ceive  that  all  this  was  but  a  faint  shadow  of  the 
once  gay  and  fanciful  rites  of  May.  The  pea 
santry  have  lost  the  proper  feeling  for  these  rites, 
and  have  grown  almost  as  strange  to  them,  as  the 
boors  of  La  Mancha  were  to  the  customs  of 
chivalry  in  the  days  of  the  valorous  Don  Quix 
ote.  Indeed,  I  considered  it  a  proof  of  the  dis 
cretion  with  which  the  Squire  rides  his  Hobby, 
that  he  had  not  pushed  the  thing  any  farther, 
nor  attempted  to  revive  many  obsolete  usages  of 
the  day,  which  in  the  present  matter-of-fact 
times  would  appear  affected  and  absurd.  I  must 
say,  however,  though  I  do  it  under  the  rose,  that 
the  general  brawl  in  which  this  festival  had  near 
ly  terminated,  has  made  me  doubt  whether  these 
rural  customs  of  the  "  good  old  times,"  were 
always  so  very  loving  and  innocent  as  we  are 
apt  to  fancy  them ;  and  whether  the  peasantry 

VOL.  II.  18 


138  MAY-DAY. 

in  those  times  were  really  so  Arcadian  as  they 
have  been  fondly  represented.     I  begin  to  fear 


Those  days  were  never ;  airy  dreams 

Sat  for  the  picture ;  and  the  poet's  hand, 
Imparting  substance  to  an  empty  shade, 
Impos'd  a  gay  delirium  for  a  truth. 
Grant  it ;  I  still  must  envy  them  an  age 
That  favoured  such  a  dream. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT. 


YESTERDAY  was  a  day  of  quiet  and  repose 
after  the  bustle  of  May-day.  During  the  morn 
ing  I  joined  the  ladies  in  a  small  sitting  room, 
the  windows  of  which  came  down  to  the  floor, 
and  opened  upon  a  terrace  of  the  garden,  which 
was  set  out  with  delicate  shrubs  and  flowers. 
The  soft  sunshine  that  fell  into  the  room  through 
the  branches  of  trees  that  overhung  the  win 
dows  ;  the  sweet  smell  of  the  flowers ;  and  the 
singing  of  the  birds,  seemed  to  produce  a  pleas 
ing  yet  calming  effect  on  the  whole  party,  for 
some  time  elapsed  without  any  one  speaking. 

Lady  Lillycraft  and  Miss  Templeton  were 
sitting  by  an  elegant  work  table,  near  one  of  the 
windows,  occupied  with  some  pretty  lady-like 
work.  The  captain  was  on  a  stool  at  his  mis 
tress'  feet,  looking  over  some  music,  and  poor 


140  THE  MANUSCRIPT. 

Phoebe  Wilkins,  who  has  always  been  a  kind  of 
pet  among  the  ladies,  but  who  has  risen  vastly  in 
favour  with  Lady  Lillycraft,  in  consequence  of 
some  tender  confessions,  sat  in  one  corner,  with 
swoln  eyes ;  working  pensively  at  some  of  the 
fair  Julia's  wedding  ornaments.  The  silence 
was  interrupted  by  her  ladyship,  who  suddenly 
proposed  a  task  to  the  captain.  "  I  am  in  your 
debt,"  said  she,  "for  that  tale  you  read  to  us  the 
other  day;  I  will  now  furnish  one  in  return,  if 
you'll  read  it ;  and  it  is  just  suited  to  this  sweet 
May  morning,  for  it  is  all  about  love  !" 

The  proposition  seemed  to  delight  every  one 
present.  The  captain  smiled  assent.  Her  la 
dyship  rang  for  her  page  in  green,  and  des 
patched  him  to  her  room  for  the  manuscript. 
"  As  the  captain,"  said  she,  "  gave  us  an  ac 
count  of  the  author  of  his  story,  it  is  but  right 
I  should  give  one  of  mine.  It  was  written  by 
the  parson  of  the  parish  where  I  reside  ;  a 
thin,  elderly  man,  of  a  delicate  constitution,  but 
positively  one  of  the  most  charming  men  that 
ever  lived.  He  lost  his  wife  a  few  years  since, 


THE  MANUSCRIPT.  141 

one  of  the  sweetest  women  you  ever  saw.  He 
has  two  sons,  whom  he  educates  himself,  both 
of  whom  already  write  delightful  poetry.  This 
parsonage  is  a  lovely  place,  close  by  the  church  ; 
all  overrun  with  ivy  and  honeysuckles  ;  with 
the  sweetest  flower  garden  about  it ;  for  you 
know  our  country  clergymen  are  almost  always 
fond  of  flowers,  and  make  their  parsonages  per 
fect  pictures. 

"  His  living  is  a  very  good  one  ;  and  he  is 
very  much  beloved,  and  does  a  great  deal  of 
good  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  among  the  poor. 
And  then  such  sermons  as  he  preaches!  Oh,  if 
you  could  only  hear  one  taken  from  a  text  in 
Solomon's  Songs,  all  about  love  and  matrimo 
ny—one  of  the  sweetest  things  you  ever  heard. 
He  preaches  it  at  least  once  a  year,  in  spring 
time,  for  he  knows  I  am  fond  of  it. 

"  He  always  dines  with  me  on  Sundays,  and 
often  brings  rne  some  of  the  sweetest  pieces  of 
poetry,  all  about  the  pleasures  of  melancholy, 
and  such  subjects ;  that  make  me  cry  so,  you 
can't  think." 


142  THE  MANUSCRIPT. 

"  I  wish  he  would  publish ;  I  think  he  has 
some  things  as  sweet  as  any  thing  in  Moore  or 
Lord  Byron. 

"  He  fell  into  very  ill  health  some  time  ago, 
and  was  advised  to  go  to  the  continent,  and  I 
gave  him  no  peace  until  he  went,  and  promised 
to  take  care  of  his  two  boys  until  he  returned. 
"  He  was  gone  for  above  a  year,  and  was  quite 
restored.  When  he  came  back,  he  sent  me  the 
tale  I'm  going  to  show  you — oh,  here  it  is,"  said 
she,  as  the  page  put  in  her  hands  a  beautiful 
box  of  satin  wood.  She  unlocked  it,  and  from 
among  several  parcels  of  notes  on  embossed  pa 
per,  cards  of  charades,  and  copies  of  verses, 
she  drew  out  a  crimson  velvet  case,  that  smelt 
very  much  of  perfumes. 

From  this  she  took  a  manuscript  daintily  writ 
ten  on  gilt-edged  vellum  paper,  and  stitched 
with  a  light  blue  ribband.  This  she  handed  to 
the  captain,  who  read  the  following  tale,  which 
I  have  procured  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  reader. 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE, 


Oh,  wander  no  more  on  the  storm  beaten  shore, 

Nor  heed  the  loud  whistling  gale ; 
Nor  strain  thy  sad  eye  to  where  sea  meets  with  sky, 

In  search  of  thy  true  lover's  sail. 

ANON. 


IN  the  course  of  a  tour  that  I  once  made  in 

.- 
Lower  Normandy,  I  remained  for  a  day  or  two 

at  the  old  town  of  Honfleur,  which  standgrnear 
the  mouth  of  the  Seine.  It  was  the  timgof  a  fete, 
and  all  the  world  was  thronging  in  jtfoe  evening 
to  dance  at  the  fair  held  before  the  Chapel  of  our 
Lady  of  Grace.  As  I  like  all  kinos  of  isit0cent 
merry-making  I  joined  the  throng. 

The  chapel  is  situated  on  the  top  of  a  high 
hill,  or  promontory;  from  whence  its  bell  may 
be  heard  at  a  distance  by  the  mariner  at  night. 
It  is  said  to  have  given  the  name  to  the  port  of 


144  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

of  Havre  de  Grace  ;  which  lies  directly  opposite, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Seine.  The  road  up  to 
the  chapel  went  in  a  zig-zag  course  along  the 
brow  of  the  steep  coast ;  it  was  shaded  by  trees, 
from  between  which  I  had  beautiful  peeps  at 
the  ancient  towers  of  Honileur  below  ;  the  va 
ried  scenery  of  the  opposite  shore;  the  white 
buildings  of  Havre  in  the  distance ;  and  the 
wide  sea  beyond.  The  road  was  enlivened  by 
groups  of  peasant  girls,  in  their  bright  crimson 
dresses,  and  tall  caps  ;  and  I  found  all  the  flower 
of  the  neighbourhood  assembled  on  the  green 
that  crowns  the  summit  of  the  hill. 
^X(je  chapel  of  Notre  Dame  de  Grace  is  a 
favourite\  resort  of  the  inhabitants  of  Honfleur 

and  its  vicinity,  both  for  pleasure  and  devotion. 

-\ 
At  this  littk?,  chapel  prayers  are  put  up  by  the 

mariners  of  rne  Port  previous  to  their  voyages, 
and  by  theii  friends  during  their  absence ;  and 
votive  offerings  are  hung  about  its  walls,  in  ful 
filment  of  vows  made  during  times  of  shipwreck 
and  disaster.  The  chapel  is  surrounded  by 
trees.  Over  the  portal  is  an  image  of  the  virgin 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  145 

arid  child,  with  an  inscription  which  struck  me 
as  being  quite  poetical  : 

Etoile  de  la  mer,  priez  pour  nous! 
(Star  of  the  sea  pray  for  us.) 

On  a  level  spot  near  the  chapel,  under  a  grove 
of  noble  trees,  the  populace  dance  on  fine  sum 
mer  evenings ;  and  here  are  held  frequent  fairs 
and  fetes,  which  assemble  all  the  rustic  beauty 
of  the  loveliest  parts  of  Lower  Normandy.  The 
present  was  an  occasion  of  the  kind.  Booths 
and  tents  were  erected  among  the  trees  ;  there 
were  the  usual  displays  of  finery  to  tempt  the 
rural  coquette  ;  of  wonderful  shows  to  entice 
the  curious ;  mountebanks  were  exerting  their 
eloquence;  jugglers  and  fortune-tellers  astonish 
ing  the  credulous ;  while  whole  rows  of  gro 
tesque  saints,  in  wood  and  wax-work,  were  of 
fered  for  the  purchase  of  the  pious. 

The  fete  had  assembled  in  one  view  all  the 
picturesque  costumes  of  the  Pays  D'Ange,  and 
the  Cote  de  Caux.  I  beheld  tall  stately  caps  and 

VOL.  IT.  19 


146  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

trim  boddices,  according  to  fashions  which  have 
been  handed  down  from  mother  to  daughter  for 
centuries  ;  the  exact  counterparts  of  those  worn 
in  the  time  of  the  Conqueror,  and  which  sur 
prised  me  by  their  faithful  resemblance  to  those 
which  I  had  seen  in  the  old  pictures  of  Frois- 
sart's  Chronicles,  and  in  the  paintings  of  illumi 
nated  manuscripts.     Any  one,  also,  that  has  been 
in  Lower  Normandy,  must  have  remarked  the 
beauty  of  the  peasantry ;  and  that  air  of  native 
elegance  which  prevails  among  them.     It  is  to 
this  country,  undoubtedly,  that  the  English  owe 
their  good  looks.     It  was  from   hence  that  the 
bright  carnation,  the  fine  blue  eye,  the  light  au 
burn  hair,  passed  over  to  England  in  the  train 
of  the  Conqueror,  and  filled  the  land  with  beauty. 
The  scene  before  me  was  perfectly  enchant 
ing.     The   assemblage  of  so   many  fresh   and 
blooming  faces;    the  gay    groups    in    fanciful 
dresses ;  some   dancing  on   the   green ;    others 
strolling  about,  or  seated  on  the  grass ;  the  fine 
clumps  of  trees  in  the  foreground,  bordering  the 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  147 

brow  of  this  airy  height ;  and  the  broad  green 
sea,  sleeping  in  summer  tranquillity  in  the  dis 
tance. 

Whilst  I  was  regarding  this  animated  picture, 
I  was  struck  with  the  appearance  of  a  beautiful 
girl,  who  passed  through  the  crowd,  without 
seeming  to  take  any  interest  in  their  amusements. 
She  was  slender  and  delicate  in  her  form ;  she 
had  not  the  bloom  upon  her  cheek  that  is  usual 
among  the  peasantry  of  Normandy ;  and  her 
blue  eyes  had  a  singular  and  melancholy  expres 
sion.  She  was  accompanied  by  a  venerable 
looking  man,  whom  I  presumed  to  be  her  father. 
There  was  a  whisper  among  the  bystanders,  and 
a  wistful  look  after  her  as  she  passed  ;  the  young 
men  touched  their  hats,  and  some  of  the  children 
followed  her  at  a  little  distance,  watching  her 
movements.  She  approached  the  edge  of  the 
hill,  where  there  is  a  little  platform,  from  whence 
the  people  of  Honfleur  look  out  for  the  approach 
of  vessels.  Here  she  stood  for  some  time,  gazing 
on  the  sea,  and  waving  her  handkerchief,  though 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  two  or  three 


148  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

fishing  boats,  far  below,  like  mere  specks  on  the 
bosom  of  the  distant  ocean. 

These  circumstances  excited  my  curiosity,  and 
I  made  some  inquiries  about  her,  which  were 
answered  with  readiness  and  intelligence  by  a 
priest  of  the  neighbouring  chapel.  Our  conver 
sation  drew  together  several  of  the  bystanders, 
each  of  whom  had  something  to  communicate, 
and  from  them  all  I  gathered  the  following  par 
ticulars  : 

Annette  Delarbre  was  the  only  daughter  of 
one  of  the  higher  order  of  farmers,  or  small  pro 
prietors,  as  they  are  called,  who  lived  at  Pont 
L'Eveque,  a  pleasant  village,  not  far  from  Hon- 
fleur,  in  that  rich  pastoral  part  of  Lower  Nor 
mandy  called  the  Pays  D'Ange.  Annette  was 
the  pride  and  delight  of  her  parents,  and  was 
brought  up  with  the  fondest  indulgence.  She 
was  gay,  tender,  petulant,  and  susceptible.  All 
her  feelings  were  quick  and  ardent;  and  having 
never  experienced  contradiction  or  restraint,  she 
was  little  practised  in  self-control.  Nothing  but 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  149 

the  native  goodness  of  her  heart  kept  her  from 
running  continually  into  error. 

Even  while  a  child,  her  susceptibility  was 
evinced  in  an  attachment  which  she  formed  to  a 
playmate,  Eugene  La  Forgue,  the  only  son  of  a 
widow  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood.  Their 
childish  love  was  an  epitome  of  maturer  passion ; 
it  had  its  caprices,  and  jealousies,  and  quarrels, 
and  reconciliations.  It  was  assuming  something 
of  a  graver  character  as  Annette  entered  her  fif 
teenth,  and  Eugene  his  nineteenth  year,  when 
he  was  suddenly  carried  off  to  the  army  by  the 
conscription.  It  was  a  heavy  blow  to  his  widow 
ed  mother,  for  he  was  her  only  pride  and  com 
fort  ;  but  it  was  one  of  those  sudden  bereave 
ments  which  mothers  were  perpetually  doomed 
to  feel  in  France,  during  the  time  that  continual 
and  bloody  wars  were  incessantly  draining  her 
youth.  It  was  a  temporary  affliction  also  to  An 
nette,  to  lose  her  lover.  With  tender  embraces, 
half  childish,  half  womanish,  she  parted  from 
him.  The  tears  streamed  from  her  blue  eyes  as 
she  bound  a  long  braid  of  her  fair  hair  round  his 


150  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

wrist;  but  the  smiles  still  broke  through;  for 
she  was  yet  too  young  to  feel  how  serious  a  thing 
is  separation,  and  how  many  chances  there  are, 
when  parting  in  this  wide  world,  against  our  ever 
meeting  again. 

Weeks,  months,  years  flew  by.     Annette  in 
creased  in  beauty  as  she  increased  in  years  ;  and 
was  the  reigning  belle  of  the  neighbourhood.  Her 
time  passed  innocently  and  happily.     Her  father 
was  a  man  of  some  consequence  in   the   rural 
community,  and  his  house  was  the  resort  of  the 
gayest  of  the  village.  Annette  held  a  kind  of  rural 
court;  she  was  always  surrounded   by  compa 
nions  of  her  own  age,  among  whom  she   shone 
unrivalled.     Much  of   their  time  was   past  in 
making  lace,  the  prevalent  manufacture  of  the 
neighbourhood.     As  they  sat  at  this  delicate  and 
feminine  labour,  the  merry  tale  and    sprightly 
song  went  round  ;  none  laughed  with   a  lighter 
heart  than  Annette  ;  and  if  she  sang,  her  voice 
was  perfect  melody.     Their  evenings  were  en 
livened  by  the  dance,  or  by  those  pleasant  social 
games  so  prevalent  among  the   French ;    and 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  151 

when  she  appeared  at  the  village  ball  on  Sunday 
evenings,  she  was  the  theme  of  universal  admi 
ration. 

As  she  was  a  rural  heiress  she  did  not  want 
for  suitors.  Many  advantageous  offers  were 
made  her,  but  she  refused  them  all.  She  laugh 
ed  at  the  pretended  pangs  of  her  admirers,  and 
triumphed  over  them  with  the  caprice  of  buoy 
ant  youth  and  conscious  beauty.  With  all  her 
apparent  levity,  however,  could  any  one  have 
read  the  story  of  her  heart,  they  might  have  tra 
ced  in  it  some  fond  remembrance  of  her  early 
playmate  ;  not  so  deeply  graven  as  to  be  painful ; 
but  too  deep  to  be  easily  obliterated ;  and  they 
might  have  noticed,  amidst  all  her  gayety,  the 
tenderness  that  marked  her  manner  towards  the 
mother  of  Eugene.  She  would  often  steal  away 
from  her  youthful  companions  and  their  amuse 
ments,  to  pass  whole  days  with  the  good  widow  ; 
listening  to  her  fond  talk  about  her  boy  ;  and 
blushing  with  secret  pleasure  when  his  letters 
were  read,  at  finding  herself  a  constant  theme 
of  recollection  and  inquiry. 


152  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

At  length  the  sudden  return  of  peice,  which 
sent  many  a  warrior  to  his  native  cottage,  brought 
back  Eugene,  a  young  sunburnt  soldier  to  the 
village.  I  need  not  say  how  rapturously  his  re 
turn  was  greeted  by  his  mother ;  who  saw  in 
him  the  pride  and  staff  of  her  old  age.  He  had 
risen  in  the  service  by  his  merit,  but  brought 
away  little  from  the  wars  excepting  a  soldier 
like  air,  a  gallant  name,  and  a  scar  across  the 
forehead.  He  brought  back,  however,  a  nature 
unspoiled  by  the  camp.  He  was  frank,  open, 
generous,  and  ardent.  His  heart  was  quick  and 
kind  in  its  impulses,  and  was  perhaps  a  little 
softer  from  having  suffered  ;  it  was  full  of  tender 
ness  for  Annette.  He  had  received  frequent 
accounts  of  her  from  his  mother,  and  the  men 
tion  of  her  kindness  to  his  lonely  parent,  had 
rendered  ner  doubly  dear  to  him.  He  had  been 
wounded  ;  he  had  been  a  prisoner  ;  he  had  been 
in  various  troubles ;  but  he  had  always  preserved 
the  braid  of  her  hair  which  she  had  bound  round 
his  arm.  It  had  been  a  kind  of  talisman  to 
him ;  when  wounded  and  in  prison,  he  had  many 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  153 

a  time  looked  upon  it,  as  he  lay  on  the  hard 
ground ;  and  the  thought  that  he  might  one  day 
see  Annette  again,  and  the  fair  fields  about  his 
native  village,  had  cheered  his  heart,  and  enabled 
him  to  bear  up  against  every  hardship. 

He  had  left  Anne  tte  almost  a  child  ;  he  found 
her  a  blooming  woman.  If  he  had  loved  her 
before,  he  now  adored  her.  Annette  was  equally 
struck  with  the  improvement  which  time  had 
made  in  her  lover.  She  noticed,  with  secret  ad 
miration,  his  superiority  to  the  other  young  men 
of  the  village  ;  the  frank,  lofty,  military  air  that 
distinguished  him  from  all  the  rest  at  their  rural 
gatherings.  The  more  she  saw  of  him,  the  more 
her  light  playful  fondness  of  former  years  deep 
ened  into  ardent  and  powerful  affection.  But 
Annette  was  a  rural  belle.  She  had  tasted  the 
sweets  of  dominion  ;  and  had  been  rendered 
wilful  and  capricious  by  constant  indulgence  at 
home  and  admiration  abroad.  She  was  con 
scious  of  her  power  over  Eugene,  and  delighted 
in  exercising  it.  She  sometimes  treated  him 
with  petulant  caprice,  enjoying  the  pain  which 

VOL.  ii.  20 


154  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

she  inflicted  by  her  frowns,  from  the  idea  how 
soon  she  would  chace  it  away  again  by  her 
smiles.  She  took  a  pleasure  in  alarming  his 
fears,  by  affecting  a  temporary  preference  to  some 
one  or  other  of  his  rivals;  and  then  would  de 
light  in  allaying  them  by  an  ample  measure  of 
returning  kindness.  Perhaps  there  was  some 
degree  of  vanity  gratified  by  all  this  ;  it  might  be 
a  matter  of  triumph  to  show  her  absolute  power 
over  the  young  soldier,  who  was  the  universal 
object  of  female  admiration.  Eugene,  however, 
was  of  too  serious  and  ardent  a  nature  to  be 
trifled  with.  He  loved  too  fervently  not  to  be 
filled  with  doubt.  He  saw  Annette  surrounded 
by  admirers,  and  full  of  animation  ;  the  gayest 
among  the  gay  at  all  their  rural  festivities; 
and  apparently  most  gay  when  he  was  most 
dejected,  Every  one  saw  through  this  caprice, 
but  himself;  every  one.  saw  that  in  reality  she 
doated  on  him ;  but  Eugene  alone  suspected  the 
sincerity  of  her  affection.  For  some  time  he 
bore  this  coquetry  with  secret  impatience  and 
distrust ;  but  his  feelings  grew  sore  and  irritable, 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  155 

and  overcame  his  self  command.  A  .slight  mis 
understanding  took  place;  a  quarrel  ensuJJd. 
Annette,  unaccustomed  to  be  thwarted  and  con 
tradicted,  and  full  of  the  insolence  of  youthful 
beauty,  assumed  an  air  of  disdain.  She  refused 
all  explanations  to  her  lover,  and  they  parted  in 
anger.  That  very  evening  Eugene  saw  her  full 
of  gayety,  dancing  with  one  of  his  rivals ;  and 
as  her  eye  caught  his,  his  fixed  on  her  with  un 
feigned  distress,  it  sparkled  with  more  than  usual 
vivacity.  It  was  a  finishing  blow  to  his  hopes, 
already  so  much  impaired  by  secret  distrust. 
Pride  and  resentment  both  struggled  in  his  breast ; 
and  seemed  to  rouse  his  spirit  to  all  its  wonted 
energy.  He  retired  from  her  presence  with 
the  hasty  determination  never  to  see  her  again. 

A  woman  is  more  considerate  in  affairs  of 
love  than  man  ;  because  love  is  more  the  study 
and  business  of  her  life.  Annette  soon  repented 
of  her  indiscretion.  She  felt  that  she  had  used 
her  lover  unkindly ;  she  felt  that  she  had  trifled 
with  his  sincere  and  g^netous  nature — and  then 
he  looked  so  handsome  when  he  parted  after 


156  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

their  quarrel,  his  fine  features  lighted  up  by  in 
dignation.  She  had  intended  making  up  with  him 
at  the  evening  dance,  but  his  sudden  departure 
prevented  her.  She  now  promised  herself  that 
when  next  they  met,  she  would  amply  repay 
him  by  the  sweets  of  a  perfect  reconciliation, 
and  that  thenceforward  she  would  never-— never 
tease  him  more ! 

That  promise  was  not  to  be  fulfilled.  Day 
after  day  passed  ;  but  Eugene  did  not  make  his 
appearance.  Sunday  evening  came,  the  usual 
time  when  all  the  gayety  of  the  village  assem 
bled,  but  Eugene  was  not  there.  She  inquired 
after  him :  he  had  left  the  village.  She  now 
became  alarmed  ;  and  forgetting  all  coyness  and 
afTected  indifference,  called  on  Eugene's  mother 
for  an  explanation.  She  found  her  full  of  afflic 
tion,  and  learnt  with  surprise  and  consternation 
that  Eugene  had  gone  to  sea. 

While  his  feelings  were  yet  smarting  with 
her  affected  disdain,  and  his  heart  a  prey  to  al 
ternate  indignation  and  despair,  he  had  suddenly 
embraced  an  invitation  which  had  repeatedly 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  157 

been  made  him  by  a  relative,  who  was  fitting 
out  a  ship  from  the  port  of  Honfleur,  and  who 
wished  him  to  be  the  companion  of  his  voyage. 
Absence  appeared  to  him  the  only  cure  for  his 
unlucky  passion  ;  and  in  the  temporary  trans 
ports  of  his  feelings  there  was  something  grati 
fying  in  the  idea  of  having  half  the  world  inter 
vene  between  them  The  hurry  necessary  for 
his  departure  left  no  time  for  cool  reflection;  it 
rendered  him  deaf  to  the  remonstrances  of  his 
afflicted  mother.  He  hastened  to  Honfleur  just 
in  time  to  make  the  needful  preparations  for  the 
voyage ;  and  the  first  news  that  Annette  received 
of  this  sudden  determination,  was  a  letter  de 
livered  by  his  mother,  returning  her  pledges  of 
affection,  particularly  the  long  treasured  braid 
of  her  hair  ;  and  bidding  her  a  last  farewell,  in 
terms  more  full  of  sorrow  and  tenderness  than 
upbraiding. 

This  was  the  first  stroke  of  real  anguish  that 
Annette  had  ever  received,  and  it  overcame  her. 

.!--'- 

The  vivacity  of  her  spirits' were  apt  to  hurry  her 
to  extremes ;  she  for  a  time  gave  way  to  ungo- 


158  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

vernable  transports  of  affliction  and  remorse,  and 
discovered  by  her  violent  exclamations  the  real 
ardour  of  her  affection.  The  thought  occurred 
to  her  that  the  ship  might  not  yet  have  sailed  ; 
she  seized  on  the  hope  with  eagerness,  and  has 
tened  with  her  father  to  Honfleur.  The  ship 
had  sailed  that  very  morning.  From  the  heights 
above  the  town  she  saw  it  lessening  to  a  speck 
on  the  broad  bosom  of  the  ocean,  and  before 
evening  the  white  sail  had  faded  from  her  sight. 
She  turned,  full  of  anguish,  to  the  neighbouring 
chapel  of  our  Lady  of  Grace,  and  throwing 
herself  on  the  pavement,  poured  out  prayers  and 
tears  for  the  safe  return  of  her  lover. 

When  she  returned  home  the  cheerfulness  of 
her  spirits  was  at  an  end.  She  looked  back  with 
remorse  and  self  upbraiding  at  her  past  caprices ; 
she  turned  with  distaste  from  the  adulation  of 
her  admirers,  and  had  no  longer  any  relish  for 
the  amusements  of  the  village.  With  humilia 
tion  and  diffidence  she  sought  the  widowed  mo 
ther  of  Eugene  ;  but  was  received  by  her  with 
an  overflowing  heart ;  for  she  only  beheld  in  her 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  159 

one  who  could  sympathize  in  her  doating  fond 
ness  for  her  son.  It  seemed  some  alleviation  of 
her  remorse,  to  sit  by  the  mother  all  day ;  to 
study  her  wants ;  to  beguile  her  heavy  hours ; 
to  hang  about  her  with  the  caressing  endearments 
of  a  daughter ;  and  to  seek  by  every  means,  if  pos 
sible,  to  supply  the  place  of  the  son,  whom  she 
reproached  herself  with  having  driven  away. 

In  the  mean  time  the  ship  made  a  prosperous 
voyage  to  her  destined  port.  Eugene's  mother 
received  a  letter  from  him,  in  which  he  lamented 
the  precipitancy  of  his  departure.  The  voyage 
had  given  him  time  for  sober  reflection.  If  An 
nette  had  been  unkind  to  him,  he  ought  not  to 
have  forgotten  what  was  due  to  his  mother,  who 
was  now  advanced  in  years.  He  accused  him 
self  of  selfishness  in  only  listening  to  the  sug 
gestions  of  his  own  inconsiderate  passions.  He 
promised  to  return  with  the  ship ;  to  make  his 
mind  up  to  his  disappointment ;  and  to  think  .of 
nothing  but  making  iiis  mother  happy.  "  And 
when  he  does  return,"  said  Annette,  clasping  her 


1 


160  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

hands  with  transport,  "  it  shall  not  be  iny  fault 
if  he  ever  leaves  us  again !" 

The  time  approached  for  the  ship's  return. 
She  was  daily  expected,  when  the  weather  be 
came  dreadfully  tempestuous.  Day  after  day 
brought  news  of  vessels  foundered  or  driven  on 
shore,  and  the  sea  coast  was  strewed  with 
wrecks.  Intelligence  was  received  of  the  looked 
for  ship  having  been  seen  dismasted  in  a  violent 
storm,  and  the  greatest  fears  were  entertained  for 
her  safety. 

Annette  never  left  the  side  of  Eugene's  mo 
ther.  She  watched  every  change  of  her  coun 
tenance  with  painful  solicitude,  and  endeavoured 
to  cheer  her  with  hopes,  while  her  own  mind 
was  racked  by  anxiety.  She  tasked  her  efforts 
to  be  gay ;  but  it  was  a  forced  and  unnatural 
gayety ;  a  sigh  from  the  mother  would  com 
pletely  check  it;  and  when  she  could  no  longer 
restrain  the  rising  tears,  she  would  hurry  away 
and  pour  out  her  agony  in  secret. 

Every  anxious  look ;  every  anxious  inquiry  of 
the  mother,  whenever  a  door  opened,  or  a  strange 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  161 

face  appeared,  was  an  arrow  to  her  soul.  She 
considered  every  disappointment  as  a  pang  of  her 
own  infliction  ;  and  her  heart  sickened  under  the 
care-worn  expression  of  the  maternal  eye.  At 
length  this  suspense  became  insupportable.  She 
left  the  village  and  hastened  to  Honfleur,  hoping 
every  hour,  every  moment,  to  receive  some  tidings 
of  her  lover.  She  paced  the  pier,  and  wearied 
the  seamen  of  the  port  with  her  inquiries.  She 
made  a  daily  pilgrimage  to  the  chapel  of  our 
Lady  of  Grace ;  hung  votive  garlands  on  the 
wall ;  and  passed  hours  either  kneeling  before 
the  altar,  or  looking  out  from  the  brow  of  the 
hill  upon  the  angry  sea. 

At  length  word  was  brought  that  the  long 
wished  for  vessel  was  in  sight.  She  was  seen 
standing  into  the  mouth  of  the  Seine,  shattered 
and  crippled,  bearing  marks  of  having  been  sadly 
tempest  tost.  There  was  a  general  joy  diffused 
by  her  return,  and  there  was  not  a  brighter  eye 
nor  a  lighter  heart  than  Annette's  in  the  little 
port  of  Honfleur.  The  ship  came  to  anchor  in 
the  river,  and  shortly  after  a  boat  put  off  for  the 

VOL.  II.  21 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

shore.  The  populace  crowded  down  to  the 
pier  head  to  welcome  it.  Annette  stood  blush 
ing,  and  smiling,  and  trembling,  and  weeping  ; 
for  a  thousand  painfully  pleasing  emotions  agi 
tated  her  breast,  at  the  thoughts  of  the  meeting 
and  the  reconciliation  that  was  about  to  take 
place.  Her  heart  throbbed  to  pour  itself  out 
and  atone  to  her  gallant  lover  for  all  its  errors. 
Her  agitation  increased  as  the  boat  drew  near  ; 
until  it  became  distressing.  At  one  moment 
she  placed  herself  in  a  conspicuous  place,  where 
she  might  at  once  catch  his  view,  and  surprize 
.him  by  her  welcome;  the  next  moment  she 
shrunk  among  the  throng,  trembling,  and  faint, 
and  gasping  with  her  emotions. 

It  was  almost  a  relief  to  her  when  she  per 
ceived  that  her  lover  was  not  in  the  boat ;  she 
presumed  that  he  had  remained  on  board  to  pre 
pare  for  his  return  home,  and  she  felt  as  if  the 
delay  would  enable  her  to  gather  more  self-pos 
session  for  the  meeting.  As  the  boat  was  near- 
ing  the  shore  there  were  a  thousand  inquiries 
made  and  laconic  answers  returned.  At  length 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  163 

Annette  heard  some  one  inquire  after  her  lover. 
Her  heart  palpitated  :  there  was  a  moment's 
pause :  the  reply  was  brief  but  awful.  He  had 
been  washed  from  the  deck  with  two  of  the 
crew  in  the  midst  of  a  stormy  night,  when  it 
was  impossible  to  render  any  assistance.  A 
piercing  shriek  broke  from  among  the  crowd, 
and  Annette  had  nearly  fallen  into  the  waves. 

The  sudden  revulsion  of  feelings  after  such 
wearing  anxiety  was  too  much  for  her  frame. 
She  was  carried  home  senseless.  Her  life  was 
for  some  time  despaired  of,  and  it  was  months 
before  she  recovered  her  health;  but  she  never 
had  perfectly  recovered  her  mind :  it  still  re 
mained  unsettled  with  respect  to  her  lover's 
fate. 

"  The  subject,"  continued  my  informer,  "  is 
never  mentioned  in  her  hearing  ;  but  she  some 
times  speaks  of  it,  and  it  seems  as  though  there 
were  some  vague  train  of  impressions  in  her 
mind,  in  which  hope  and  fear  are  strangely 
mingled,  some  imperfect  idea  of  his  shipwreck, 
and  yet  some  expectation  of  his  return. 


164 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE, 


"  Her  parents  have  tried  every  means  to  cheer 
her  up,  and  to  banish  these  gloomy  images  from 
her  thoughts.  They  assemble  round  her  the 
young  companions  in  whose  society  she  used  to 
delight ;  and  they  will  work,  and  chat,  and  sing, 
and  laugh  as  formerly ;  but  she  will  sit  silently 
among  them,  and  will  sometimes  weep  in  the 
midst  of  their  gayety ;  and  if  spoken  to  will 
make  no  reply,  but  look  up  with  streaming  eyes 
and  sing  a  dismal  little  song  which  she  has  learnt 
somewhere,  about  a  shipwreck.  It  makes  every 
one's  heart  ache  to  see  her  in  this  way  ;  for  she 
used  to  be  the  happiest  creature  in  the  village. 

"  She  passes  the  greater  part  of  the  time  with 
Eugene's  mother,  whose  only  consolation  is  her 
society,  and  who  doats  on  her  with  a  mother's 
tenderness.  She  is  the  only  one  that  has  perfect 
influence  over  Annette  in  every  mood.  The 
poor  girl  seems,  as  formerly,  to  make  an  effort  to 
be  cheerful  in  her  company ;  but  will  sometimes 
gaze  upon  her  with  the  most  piteous  look,  and 
then  put  back  her  cap,  and  kiss  her  gray  hairs, 
and  fall  on  her  neck  and  weep. 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  165 

"-  She  is  not  always  melancholy,  however ; 
she  has  occasional  intervals  when  she  will  be 
bright  and  animated  for  days  together ;  but  there 
is  a  degree  of  wildness  attending  these  fits  of 
gayety,  that  prevents  their  yielding  any  encou 
ragement  to  her  friends.  At  such  times  she  will 
arrange  her  room,  which  is  all  covered  with  pic 
tures  of  ships,  and  legends  of  saints  ;  and  will 
wreath  a  white  chaplet,  as  if  for  a  wedding,  and 
prepare  wedding  ornaments.  She  will  listen 
anxiously  at  the  door,  and  look  frequently  at  the 
window,  as  if  expecting  some  one?s  arrival.  It 
is  supposed  that  at  such  times  she  is  looking  for 
her  lover's  return  ;  but  as  no  one  touches  upon 
the  theme,  or  mentions  his  name  in  her  presence, 
the  current  of  her  thoughts  are  for  the  most  part 
merely  conjecture. 

"  Now  and  then  she  will  rriake  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  chapel  of  Notre  Dame  de  Grace ;  where 
she  will  pray  for  hours  at  the  altar,  and  decorate 
the  images  with  wreaths  that  she  has  woven  ;  or 
will  wave  her  handkerchief  from  the  terrace. 


166  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

as  you  have  seen,  if  there  is  any  vessel  to  be 
seen  in  the  distance." 

Nearly  two  years,  he  informed  me,  had 
now  elapsed,  without  effacing  from  her  mind 
this  singular  taint  of  insanity  ;  still  her  friends 
hoped  it  might  gradually  wear  away.  They 
had  at  one  time  removed  her  to  a  distant  part  of 
the  country,  in  hopes  that  absence  from  the  scenes 
connected  with  her  story  might  have  a  salutary 
effect ;  but,  when  her  periodical  melancholy  re 
turned  she  became  more  restless  and  wretched 
than  usual,  and,  privately  escaping  from  her 
friends,  set  out  on  foot,  without  knowing  the 
road,  on  one  of  her  pilgrimages  to  the  chapel. 

This  little  story  entirely  drew  my  attention 
from  the  gay  scene  of  the  fete,  and  fixed  it  upon 
the  beautiful  Annette.  While  she  was  yet  stand 
ing  on  the  terrace  the  vesper  bell  was  rung  from 
the  neighbouring  chapel.  She  listened  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then,  drawing  a  small  rosary  from  her 
bosom,  walked  in  that  direction.  Several  of  the 
peasantry  followed  her  in  silence  ;  and  I  felt  too 
much  interested  not  to  do  the  same. 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  167 

The  chapel,  as  I  said  before,  is  in  the  midst  of 
a  grove  on  the  high  promontory.  The  inside  is 
hung  round  with  miniature  ships,  and  rude  paint 
ings  of  wrecks  and  perils  at  sea,  and  providential 
deliverances  ;  the  votive  offerings  of  captains  and 
crews  that  have  been  saved.  On  entering,  An 
nette  paused  for  a  moment  before  a  picture  of  the 
virgin ;  which  I  observed  had  recently  been  de 
corated  with  a  wreath  of  artificial  flowers.  When 
she  reached  the  middle  of  the  chapel  she  knelt 
down,  and  those  who  followed  her  involuntarily 
did  the  same  at  a  little  distance.  The  evening 
sun  shone  softly  through  the  chequered  grove  into 
one  window  of  the  chapel.  A  perfect  stillness 
reigned  within  ;  and  this  stillness  was  the  more 
impressive  contrasted  with  the  distant  sound  of 
music  and  merriment  of  the  fair. 

I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  from  the  poor 
suppliant.  Her  lips  moved  as  she  told  her  beads ; 
but  her  prayers  were  breathed  in  silence.  It 
might  have  been  mere  fancy  excited  by  the  scene, 
that,  as  she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  I  thought 
they  had  an  expression  truly  seraphic ;  but  I  am 


168  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

easily  affected  by  female  beauty,  and  there  was 
something  in  this  mixture  of  love,  devotion,  and 
partial  insanity,  that  was  inexpressibly  touch 
ing. 

As  the  poor  girl  left  the  chapel  there  was  a 
sweet  serenity  in  her  looks,  and  I  was  told  that 
she  wrould  now  return  home,  and  in  all  probabi 
lity  be  calm  and  cheerful  for  days  and  even 
weeks  ;  in  which  time  it  was  supposed  that  hope 
predominated  in  her  mental  malady ;  and  that 
when  the  dark  side  of  her  mind,  as  her  friends 
called  it,  was  about  to  turn  up,  it  would  be  known 
by  her  neglecting  her  distaff  or  her  lace  ;  singing 
plaintive  songs,  and  weeping  in  silence. 

She  passed  on  from  the  chapel  without  no^ 
ticing  the  fete,  but  smiling  and  speaking  to  many 
as  she  passed.  I  followed  her  with  my  eye  as 
she  descended  the  winding  road  towards  Hon- 
fleur,  leaning  on  her  father's  arm.  "  Heaven," 
thought  I,  "  has  ever  its  store  of  balms  for  the 
hurt  mind  and  wounded  spirit,  and  may  in  time 
raise  up  this  broken  flower  to  be  once  more  the 
pride  and  joy  of  the  valley.  The  very  delusion 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  169 

in  which  the  poor  girl  walks,  may  be  one  of 
those  mists  kindly  diffused  by  Providence  over 
the  regions  of  thought,  when  they  become  too 
fruitful  of  misery.  The  veil  may  gradually  be 
raised  which  obscures  the  horizon  of  her  mind, 
as  she  is  enabled  steadily  and  calmly  to  contem 
plate  the  sorrows  at  present  hidden  in  mercy 
from  her  view."  °  • 


VOL.  ii.  22; 


170  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 


PART  II. 

ON  my  return  from  Paris,  about  a  year  after 
wards,  I  turned  off  from  the  beaten  route  at 
Rouen,  to  revisit  some  of  the  most  striking  scenes 
of  Lower  Normandy.  Haf  ing  passed  through 
the  lovely  country  of  the  Pays  D'Ange,  I  reach 
ed  Honfleur  on  a  fine  afternoon,  intending  to 
cross  to  Havre  the  next  morning,  and  embark  for 
England.  As  I  had  no  other  way  of  passing 
the  evening,  I  strolled  up  the  hill  to  enjoy  the 
fine  prospect  from  the  chapel  of  Notre  Dame  de 
Grace,  and  while  there  I  thought  of  inquiring 
after  the  fate  of  poor  Annette  Delarbre.  The 
priest  who  had  told  me  her  story  was  officiating 
at  vespers,  after  which  I  accosted  him  and  learnt 
from  him  the  remaining  circumstances. 

He  told  me,  that  from  the  time  I  had  seen  her 
at  the  chapel  her  disorder  took  a  sudden  turn  for 
the  worse,  and  her  health  rapidly  declined.  Her 
cheerful  intervals  became  shorter,  and  less  fre- 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  171 

quent,  and  attended  with  more  incoherency.  She 
grew  languid,  silent,  and  moody  in  her  melan 
choly  ;  her  form  was  wasted ;  her  looks  pale 
and  disconsolate  ;  and  it  was  feared  she  would 
never  recover.  She  became  impatient  of  all 
sounds  of  gayety,  and  was  never  so  contented 
as  when  Eugene's  mother  was  near  her.  The 
good  woman  watched  over  her  with  patient  and 
yearning  solicitude,  and  in  seeking  to  beguile 
her  sorrows  would  half  forget  her  own.  Some 
times  as  she  sat  looking  upon  her  pallid  face,  the 
tears  would  fill  her  eyes,  which,  when  Annette 
perceived,  she  would  anxiously  wipe  them  away, 
and  tell  her  not  to  grieve,  for  that  Eugene  would 
soon  return  ;  and  then  she  would  affect  a  forced 
gayety,  as  in  former  times,  and  sing  a  lively  air  ; 
but  a  sudden  recollection  would  come  over  her, 
and  she  would  burst  into  tears,  hang  on  the  poor 
mother's  neck,  and  entreat  her  not  to  curse  her 
for  having  destroyed  her  son. 

Just  at  this  time,  to  the  astonishment  of  every 
one,  news  was  received  of  Eugene  ;  who,  it  ap 
peared,  was  still  living.  When  almost  drowned 


172  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

he  had  fortunately  seized  upon  a  spar  which  had 
been  washed   from  the  ship's   deck.     Finding 
himself  nearly  exhausted  he  had  fastened  himself 
to  it,  and  floated  for  a  day  and  a  night  until  all 
sense  had  left  him.     On  recovering  he  had  found 
himself  on  board  a  vessel  bound  to  India  ;  but  so 
ill  as  not  to  move  without  assistance.    His  health 
had  continued  precarious  throughout  the  voyage; 
on  arriving  in   India  he  had  experienced  many 
vicissitudes ;  and  had  been  transferred  from  ship 
to  ship,  and  hospital  to  hospital.     His  constitu 
tion  had  enabled  him  to  struggle  through  every 
hardship,  and  he  was  now   in  a   distant  port, 
waiting  only  for  the  sailing  of  a  ship  to  return 
home. 

Great  caution  was  necessary  in  imparting 
these  tidings  to  the  mother,  and  even  then  she 
was  nearly  overcome  by  the  transports  of  her 
joy.  But  how  to  impart  them  to  Annette  was  a 
matter  of  still  greater  perplexity.  Her  state  of 
mind  had  been  so  morbid ;  she  had  been  subject  to 
such  violent  changes  ;  and  the  cause  of  her  de 
rangement  had  been  of  such  an  inconsolable 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  173 

and  hopeless  kind,  that  her  friends  had  always 
forbore  to  tamper  with  her  feelings.  They  had 
never  even  hinted  at  the  subject  of  her  griefs ; 
nor  encouraged  the  theme  when  she  adverted  to 
it ;  but  had  passed  it  over  in  silence,  hoping  that 
time  would  gradually  wear  the  traces  of  it  from 
her  recollection,  or  at  least  would  render  them 
less  painful.  They  now  felt  at  a  loss  how  to  un 
deceive  her  even  in  her  misery  ;  lest  the  sudden 
recurrence  of  happiness  might  confirm  the  es 
trangement  of  her  reason,  or  might  overpower 
her  enfeebled  frame.  They  ventured,  however, 
to  probe  those  wounds  which  they  formerly  did 
not  dare  to  touch  ;  for  they  now  had  the  balm  to 
pour  into  them.  They  led  the  conversation  to 
those  topics  which  they  had  hitherto  shunned ; 
and  endeavoured  to  ascertain  the  current  of  her 
thoughts  in  those  varying  moods  that  had  for 
merly  perplexed  them.  They  found,  however, 
that  her  mind  was  even  .more  affected  than  they 
had  imagined.  All  her  ideas  were  confused  and 
wandering.  Her  bright  and  cheerful  moods, 
which  now  grew  seldomer  than  ever,  were  all 


174  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

the  effects  of  mental  delusion.     At  such  times 
she  had  no  recollection  of   her  lover's  having 
been  in  danger,  but  was  only  anticipating  his 
arrival.     "  When  the  winter  has  passed  away," 
said  she,  "  and  the  trees  put  on  their  blossoms, 
and  the  swallow  comes  back  over  the  sea,  he 
will  return."     When  she  was  drooping  and  des 
ponding,  it  was  in  vain  to  remind  her  of  what  she 
had  said  in  her  gayer  moments,  and  to  assure 
her  that  Eugene  would   indeed  return   shortly. 
She  wept  on  in  silence  and  appeared  insensible  to 
their  words.     But  at  times  her  agitation  became 
violent  when  she  would  upbraid  herself    with 
having  driven  Eugene    from  his  mother,  and 
brought  sorrow  on  her  gray  hairs.     Her  mind 
admitted  but  one  leading  idea  at  a  time,  which 
nothing  could  divert  or  efface ;  or  if  they  ever 
succeeded  in  interrupting  the  current  of  her  fancy, 
it  only  became  the  more  incoherent,  and  increas 
ed  the  feverishness  that  .preyed  upon  both  mind 
and  body.     Her  friends  felt  more  alarm  for  her 
than  ever,  for  they  feared  that  her  senses  were 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  175 

irrecoverably  gone,  and  her  constitution  com 
pletely  undermined. 

In  the  mean  time  Eugene  returned  to  the  vil 
lage.  He  was  violently  affected  when  the  story 
of  Annette  was  told  him.  With  bitterness  of 
heart  he  upbraided  his  own  rashness  and  infatu 
ation,  that  had  hurried  him  away  from  her;  and 
accused  himself  as  the  author  of  all  her  woes. 
His  mother  would  describe  to  him  all  the  an 
guish  and  remorse  of  poor  Annette ;  the  tender 
ness  with  which  she  clung  to  her,  and  endea 
voured,  even  in  the  midst  of  her  insanity,  to 
console  her  for  the  loss  of  her  son  ;  and  the 
touching  expressions  of  affection  that  were 
mingled  with  her  most  incoherent  wanderings 
of  thought;  until  his  feelings  would  be  wound 
up  to  agony,  and  he  would  intreat  her  to  desist 
from  the  recital.  They  did  not  dare  as  yet  to 
bring  him  into  Annette's  sight,  but  he  was  per 
mitted  to  see  her  when  she  was  sleeping.  The 
tears  streamed  down  his  sunburnt  cheeks  as  he 
contemplated  the  ravages  which  grief  and  mala 
dy  had  made,  and  his  heart  swelled  almost  to 


176  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

breaking  as  he  beheld  round  her  neck  the  very 
braid  of  hair  which  she  once  gave  him  in  token 
of  girlish  affection,  and  which  he  had  returned 
to  her  in  anger. 

At  length  the  physician  that  attended  her  de 
termined  to  adventure  upon  an  experiment ;  to 
take  advantage  of  one  of  those  cheerful  moods, 
when  her  mind  was  visited  by  hope,  and  to  en 
deavour  to  engraft,  as  it  were,  the  reality  upon 
the  delusions  of  her  fancy.  These  moods  had 
now  become  very  rare,  for  nature  was  sinking 
under  the  continual  pressure  of  her  mental 
malady,  and  the  principle  of  reaction  was  daily 
growing  weaker.  Every  effort  was  tried  to 
bring  on  a  cheerful  interval  of  the  kind.  Seve 
ral  of  her  most  favourite  companions  were  kept 
continually  about  her.  They  chatted  gayly ; 
they  laughed,  and  sang,  and  danced ;  but  An 
nette  reclined  with  languid  frame  and  hollow 
eye,  and  took  no  part  in  their  gayety.  At  length 
the  winter  was  gone ;  the  trees  put  forth  their 
leaves ;  the  swallow  began  to  build  in  the  eaves 
of  the  house,  and  the  robin  and  wren  piped  all 

* 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  177 

day  beneath  the  window.  Annette's  spirits  gra 
dually  revived.  She  began  to  deck  her  person 
with  unusual  care,  and  bringing  forth  a  basket  of 
artificial  flowers,  she  went  to  work  to  wreathe 
a  bridal  chaplet  of  white  roses.  Her  com 
panions  asked  her  why  she  prepared  the  chap- 
let.  "  What !"  said  she  with  a  smile,  "  have 
you  not  noticed  the  trees  putting  on  their  wed 
ding  dresses  of  blossoms;  has  not  the  swallow 
flown  back  over  the  sea ;  do  you  not  know  that 
the  time  is  come  for  Eugene  to  return,  that  he 
will  be  home  to-morrow,  and  that  on  Sunday 
we  are  to  be  married  ?" 

Her  words  were  reported  to  the  physician, 
and  he  seized  on  them  at  once.  He  directed 
that  her  idea  should  be  encouraged  and  acted 
upon.  Her  words  were  echoed  through  the 
house.  Every  one  talked  of  the  return  of  Eu 
gene  as  a  matter  of  course ;  they  congratulated 
her  upon  her  approaching  happiness,  and  assist 
ed  her  in  her  preparations.  The  next  morning 
the  same  theme  was  resumed.  She  was  dressed 
out  to  receive  her  lover.  Every  bosom  fluttered 

VOL.  n.  23 


178  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

with  anxiety.  A  cabriolet  drove  into  the  vil 
lage.  "  Eugene  is  coming,"  was  the  cry.  She 
saw  him  alight  at  the  door,  and  rushed,  with  a 
shriek,  into  his  arms. 

Her  friends  trembled  for  the  result  of  this 
critical  experiment ;  but  she  did  not  sink  under 
it,  for  her  fancy  had  prepared  her  for  his  return. 
She  was  as  one  in  a  dream,  to  whom  a  tide  of 
unlocked  for  prosperity,  that  would  have  over 
whelmed  his  waking  reason,  seems  but  the  natu 
ral  current  of  circumstances.  Her  conversa 
tion,  however,  showed  that  her  senses  were 
wandering.  There  was  an  absolute  forgetful- 
ness  of  all  past  sorrow ;  a  wild  and  feverish 
gayety  that  at  times  was  incoherent. 

The  next  morning  she  awoke  languid  and  ex 
hausted.  All  the  occurrences  of  the  preceding 
day  had  passed  away  from  her  mind  as  though 
they  had  been  the  mere  illusions  of  her  fancy. 
She  rose  melancholy  and  abstracted,  and  as  she 
dressed  herself  was  heard  to  sing  one  of  her 
plaintive  ballads.  When  she  entered  the  par 
lour  her  eyes  were  swoln  with  weeping.  She 
a 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  179 

heard  Eugene's  voice  without,  and  started.  She 
passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead,  and  stood 
musing  like  one  endeavouring  to  recall  a  dream. 
Eugene  entered  the  room,  and  advanced  towards 
her ;  she  looked  at  him  with  an  eager  searching 
look,  murmured  some  indistinct  words,  and  be 
fore  he  could  reach  her,  sunk  upon  the  floor. 

She  relapsed  into  a  wild  and  unsettled  state  of 
mind,  but«now  that  the  first  shock  was  over,  the 
Physician  ordered  that  Eugene  should  keep  con 
tinually  in  her  sight.  Sometimes  she  did  not 
know  him  ;  at  other  times  she  would  talk  to  him 
as  if  he  were  going  to  sea,  and  would  implore 
him  not  to  part  from  her  in  anger ;  and  when  he 
was  not  present  she  would  speak  of  him  as  buried 
in  the  ocean,  and  would  sit,  with  clasped  hands, 
looking  upon  the  ground,  the  picture  of  des 
pair. 

As  the  agitation  of  her  feelings  subsided,  and 
her  frame  recovered  from  the  shock  which  it 
had  received,  she  became  more  placid  and  cohe 
rent.  Eugene  kept  almost  continually  near  her. 
He  formed  the  real  object  round  which  her  scat- 


180  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

tered  ideas  once  more  gathered,  and  which  linked 
them  once  mor£  with  the  realities  of  life.  But 
her  changeful  disorder  now  appeared  to  take  a 
new  turn.  She  became  languid  and  inert,  and 
would  sit  for  hours  silent  and  almost  in  a  state  of 
lethargy.  If  roused  from  this  stupor,  it  seemed 
as  if  her  mind  would  make  some  attempts  to 
follow  up  a  train  of  thought,  but  soon  became 
confused.  She  would  regard  every  on-e  that  ap 
proached  her  with  an  anxious  and  inquiring  eye, 
that  seemed  continually  to  disappoint  itself. 
Sometimes  as  her  lover  sat  holding  her  hand  she 
would  look  pensively  in  his  face  without  saying 
a  word,  until  his  heart  was  overcome  ;  and  after 
these  transient  fits  of  intellectual  exertion  she 
would  sink  again  into  lethargy. 

By  degrees  this  stupor  increased;  her  mind 
appeared  to  have  subsided  into  a  stagnant  and 
almost  deathlike  calm.  For  the  greater  part  of 
the  time  her  eyes  were  closed  ;  her  face  al 
most  as  fixed  and  passionless  as  that  of  a 
corpse.  She  no  longer  took  any  notice  of 
surrounding  objects.  There  was  an  avvfulness 
• 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  181 

in  this  tranquillity  that  filled  her  friends  with 
apprehension.  The  physician  ordered  that  she 
should  be  kept  perfectly  quiet ;  or  that  if  she 
evinced  any  agitation  she  should  be  gently  lulled, 
like  a  child,  by  some  favourite  tune. 

She  remained  in  this  state  for  hours,  hardly 
seeming  to  breathe,  and  apparently  sinking  into 
the  sleep  of  death.  Her  chamber  was  pro 
foundly  still.  The  attendants  moved  about  it 
with  noiseless  tread  ;  every  thing  was  communi 
cated  by  signs  and  whispers.  Her  lover  sat  by 
her  side,  watching  her  with  painful  anxiety,  and 
fearing  that  every  breath  which  stole  from  her 
pale  lips  would  be  the  last. 

At  length  she  heaved  a  deep  sigh;  and  from 
some  convulsive  motions  appeared  to  be  trou 
bled  in  her  sleep.  Her  agitation  increased,  ac 
companied  by  an  indistinct  moaning.  One  of 
her  companions,  remembering  the  physician's  in 
structions,  endeavoured  to  lull  her,  by  singing 
in  a  low  voice  a  tender  little  air,  which  was  a 
particular  favourite  of  Annette's.  Probably  it 
had  some  connection  in  her  mind  with  her  story ; 


182  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

for  every  fond  girl  has  some  ditty  of  the  kind, 
linked  in  her  thoughts  with  sweet  and  sad  re 
membrances. 

, 

As  she  sang  the  agitation  of  Annette  subsi 
ded.  A  streak  of  faint  colour  came  into  her 
cheeks;  her  eyelids  became  swoln  with  rising 
tears,  wrhich  trembled  there  for  a  moment,  and 
then  stealing  forth,  coursed  down  her  pallid 
cheek.  When  the  song  was  ended  she  opened 
her  eyes  and  looked  about  her  as  one  awaking 
in  a  strange  place. 

"  Oh  Eugene !  Eugene  !"  said  she,  "  it  seems 
as  if  I  have  had  a  long  and  dismal  dream.  What 
has  happened,  and  what  has  been  the  matter 
with  me  ?" 

The  questions  were  embarrassing;  and  before 
they  could  be  answered,  the  physician,  who  was 
in  the  next  room,  entered ;  she  took  him  by  the 
hand,  looked  up  in  his  face,  and  made  the  same 
inquiry.  He  endeavoured  to  put  her  off  with 
some  evasive  answer.  "  No  !  No  !"  cried  she, 
"  I  know  I've  been  ill,  and  I  have  been  dreaming 
strangely.  I  thought  Eugene  had  left  us  ;  and 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  183 

that  he  had  gone  to  sea — and  that — and  that  he 
was  drowned! — But  he  has  been  to  sea!"  add 
ed  she,  earnestly,  as  recollection  kept  flashing 
upon  her,  "  and  he  has  been  wrecked — and  we 
were  all  so  wretched — and  he  came  home  again 

one  bright  morning — and oh  !"  said  she, 

pressing  her  hand  against  her  forehead  with  a 
sickly  smile,  "  I  see  how  it  is  •;  all  has  not  been 
right  here.  I  begin  to  recollect — but  it  is  all 
past  now — Eugene  is  here  !  and  his  mother  is 
happy — and  we  shall  never,  never  part  again — 
shall  we,  Eugene  ?" 

She  sunk  back  in  her  chair  exhausted.  The 
tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks.  Her  compa 
nions  hovered  round  her,  not  knowing  what  to 
make  of  this  sudden  dawn  of  reason.  Her  lover 
sobbed  aloud.  She  opened  her  eyes  again,  and 
looked  upon  them  with  an  air  of  the  sweetest 
acknowledgment.  "  You  are  all  so  good  to  me !" 
said  she  faintly. 

The  physician  drew  the  father  aside.  "  Your 
daughter's  mind  is  restored,"  said  he,  "  she  is 
sensible  that  she  has  been  deranged ;  she  is 


184  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

growing  conscious  of  the  past,  and  conscious  of 
the  present.  All  that  now  remains  is  to  keep 
her  calm  and  quiet  until  her  health  is  re-esta 
blished,  and  then  let  her  be  married,  in  God's 
name !" 

"  The  wedding  took  place,"  said  the  good 
priest,  "  but  a  short  time  since  ;  they  were  here 
at  the  last  fete  during  their  honey  moon,  and  a 
handsomer  and  happier  couple  was  not  to  be  seen 
as  they  danced  under  yonder  trees.  The  young 
man,  his  wife,  and  mother,  now  live  on  a  fine 
farm  at  Pont  L'Eveque ;  and  that  model  of  a 
ship  which  you  see  yonder,  with  white  flowers 
wreathed  round  it,  is  Annette's  offering  of  thanks 
to  our  Lady  of  Grace,  for  having  listened  to  her 
prayers,  and  protected  her  lover  in  the  hour  of 
peril." 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  185 


THE  captain  having  finished,  there  was  a 
momentary  silence.  The  tender  hearted  Lady 
Lillycraft,  who  knew  the  story  by  heart,  had  led 
the  way  in  weeping,  and  indeed,  had  often  be 
gun  to  shed  tears  before  they  had  come  to  the 
right  place.  The  fair  Julia  was  a  little  flurried 
at  the  passage  where  wedding  preparations  were 
mentioned  ;  but  the  auditor  most,  affected  was  the 
simple  Phoebe  Wilkins.  She  had  gradually 
dropt  her  work  in  her  lap,  and  sat  sobbing  through 
the  latter  part  of  the  story  until  towards  the  end, 
when  the  happy  reverse  had  nearly  produced 
another  scene  of  hystericks. — "  Go  take  this 
case  to  my  room  again,  child,"  said  Lady  Lilly- 
craft  kindly,  "  and  don't  cry  so  much." 

"  I  won't,  an't  please  your  Ladyship,  if  I  can 
help  it ;  but  I'm  glad  they  made  all  up  again 
and  were  married." 

By  the  way,  the  case  of  this  lovelorn  damsel 
begins  to  make  some  talk  in  the  household,  es- 

VOL,  n.  24 


186  ANNETTE  DELARBRE. 

pecially  among  certain  little  ladies,  not  far  in 
their  teens,  of  whom  she  has  made  confidants. 

She  is  a  great  favourite  with  them  all,  but 
particularly  so  since  she  has  confided  to  them 
her  love  secrets. 

They  enter  into  her  concerns  with  all  the 
violent  zeal  and  overwhelming  sympathy  with 
which  little  boarding  school  ladies  engage  in  the 
politics  of  a  love  affair.  I  have  noticed  them 
frequently  clustering  about  her  in  private  con 
ferences  ;  or  walking  up  and  down  the  garden 
terrace,  under  my  window,  listening  to  some  long 
and  dolorous  story  of  her  afflictions,  of  which 
I  could  now  and  then  distinguish  the  ever  recur 
ring  phrases,  "  says  he"  and  "  says  she." 

I  accidentally  interrupted  one  of  these  little 
councils  of  war,  when  they  were  all  huddled  to 
gether  under  a  tree,  and  seemed  to  be  earnestly 
considering  some  interesting  document. 

The  flutter  at  my  approach  showed  that  there 
were  some  secrets  under  discussion;  and  I  ob 
served  the  disconsolate  Phoebe  crumpling  into 
her  bosom  either  a  love  letter  or  an  old  valentine, 
and  brushing  away  the  tears  from  her  cheeks. 


ANNETTE  DELARBRE.  187 

The  girl  is  a  good  girl,  of  a  soft,  melting  na 
ture,  and  shows  her  concern  at  the  cruelty  of 
her  lover  only  in  tears  and  drooping  looks ;  but 
with  the  little  ladies  who  have  espoused  her 
cause,  it  sparkles  up  tnto  fiery  indignation ;  and 
I  have  noticed  on  Sunday  many  a  glance 
darted  at  the  pew  of  the  Tibbets'  enough  to 
melt  down  the  silver  buttons  on  old  Ready  Mo- 
's  jacket. 


THE     C  U  L  P  R  I  T  . 


From  fire,  from  water,  and  all  things  amiss, 
Deliver  the  house  of  an  honest  justice 

THE  WIDOW 


THE  serenity  of  the  Hall  has  been  suddenly 
interrupted  by  a  very  important  occurrence.  In 
the  course  of  this  morning  a  posse  of  villagers 
was  seen  trooping  up  the  avenue  ;  with  boys 
shouting  in  advance.  As  it  drew  near  we  per 
ceived  Ready  Money  Jack  Tibbets  striding 
along,  wielding  his  cudgel  in  one  hand,  and 
with  the  other  grasping  the  collar  of  a  tall  fel 
low,  whom  on  still  nearer  approach  we  recog 
nised  for  the  redoubtable  gipsy  hero,  Star-light 
Tom.  He  was  now,  however,  completely 


THE  CULPRIT.  189 

cowed  and  crest-fallen,  and  his  courage  seemed 
to  have  quailed  in  the  iron  gripe  of  the  lion- 
hearted  Jack. 

The  whole  gang  of  gipsy  women  and  children 
came  draggling  in  the  rear  ;  some  in  tears,  others 
making  a  violent  clamour  about  the  ears  of  old 
Ready  Money  ;  who,  however,  trudged  on  in 
silence  with  his  prey,  heeding  their  abuse  as  lit 
tle  as  a  hawk,  that  has  pounced  upon  a  barn 
door  hero,  regards  the  outcries  and  cacklings  of 
his  whole  feathered  seraglio. 

He  had  passed  through  the  village  on  his  wa^ 
to  the  Hall ;  and  of  course  had  made  a  great 
sensation  in  that  most  excitable  place ;  where 
every  event  is  a  matter  of  gaze  and  gossip.  The 
report  had  circulated  like  wildfire,  that  old  Tib- 
bets  had  taken  Star-light  Tom  prisoner.  The 
ale  drinkers  forthwith  abandoned  the  tap  room, 
Slingsby's  school  broke  loose  without  waiting  to 
be  dismissed,  and  masters  and  boys  swelled  the 
tide  that  came  rolling  at  the  heels  of  old  Ready 
Money  and  his  captive.  The  uproar  increased 
as  they  approached  the  Hall ;  it  aroused  the 


190 


THE  CULPRIT. 


whole  garrison  of  dogs,  and  the  crew  of  hang 
ers  on.  The  great  mastiff  barked  from  the  dog 
house  ;  the  staghound  and  the  grayhound  and 
the  spaniel  came  barking  from  the  Hall  door,  and 
my  Lady  Lillycraft's  little  dogs  barked  from  the 
parlour  windows.  I  remarked,  however,  that 
the  gipsy  dogs  made  no  reply  to  all  these  me 
naces  and  insults ;  but  crept  close  to  the  gang, 
looking  round  with  a  guilty,  poaching  air,  and 
now  and  then  glancing  up  a  dubious  eye  to  their 
owners  ;  which  shows  that  the  moral  characters 
even  of  dogs  may  be  ruined  by  bad  company  ! 

When  the  throng  reached  the  front  of  the 
house,  they  were  brought  to  a  halt  by  a  kind  of 
advanced  guard  composed  of  old  Christy,  the 
gamekeeper,  and  two  or  three  servants  of  the 
house,  who  had  been  brought  out  by  the  noise. 
The  common  herd  of  the  village  fell  back  with 
respect ;  the  boys  were  driven  back  by  old 
Christy  and  his  compeers ;  while  Ready  Money 
Jack  maintained  his  ground  and  his  hold  of  the 
prisoner,  and  was  surrounded  by  the  tailor,  the 
schoolmaster,  and  several  other  dignitaries  of  the 


THE  CULPRIT. 


191 


village,  and  by  the  clamorous  brood  of  gipsies, 
who  were  neither  to  be  silenced  nor  intimidated. 
By  this  time  the  whole  household  were  brought 
to  the  doors  and  windows,  and  the  Squire  to  the 
portal.  An  audience  was  demanded  by  Ready 
Money  Jack,  who  had  detected  the  prisoner  in 
the  very  act  of  sheep  stealing  on  his  domains, 
and  had  borne  him  off  to  be  examined  before 
the  Squire,  who  is  in  the  commission  of  the 
peace. 

A  kind  of  tribunal  was  immediately  held  in 
the  servant's  hall ;  a  large  chamber,  with  a  stone 
floor,  and  a  long  table  in  the  centre,  at  one  end 
of  which,  just  under  an  enormous  clock,  was 
placed  the  Squire's  chair  of  justice,  while  Mas 
ter  Simon  took  his  place  at  the  table  as  clerk  of 
the  court.  An  attempt  had  been  made  by  old 
Christy  to  keep  out  the  gipsy  gang,  but  in  vain  ; 
and  they,  with  the  village  worthies,  and  the 
household,  half  rilled  the  Hall.  The  old  house 
keeper  and  the  butler  were  in  a  panic  at  this  dan 
gerous  irruption.  They  hurried  away  all  the 
valuable  things  and  portable  articles  that  were  at 


192  THE  CULPRIT. 

hand,  and  even  kept  a  dragon  watch  on  the  gip 
sies  lest  they  should  carry  off  the  house  clock  or 
the  deal  table. 

Old  Christy,  and  his  faithful  coadjutor  the 
gamekeeper,  acted  as  constables  to  guard  the 
prisoner,  and  appeared  to  triumph  in  having  at 
last  got  this  terrible  night-walking  offender  in 
their  clutches.  By  the  bye  I  am  inclined  to  sus 
pect  that  the  old  huntsman  bore  some  peevish 
recollection  of  having  been  handled  rather  rough 
ly  by  the  gipsy  in  the  chance  medley  affray  of 
May-day. 

Silence  was  now  commanded  by  Master  Simon, 
but  it  was  difficult  to  be  enforced  in  such  a  motly 
assemblage.  There  was  a  continual  snarling 
and  yelping  of  dogs,  and  as  fast  as  it  was  quell 
ed  in  one  corner,  it  broke  out  in  another.  The 
poor  gipsy  curs,  who,  like  arrant  thieves,  could 
not  hold  up  their  heads  in  an  honest  house,  were 
worried  and  insulted  by  the  gentlemen  dogs  of 
the  establishment,  without  offering  to  make  re 
sistance  ;  the  very  curs  of  my  Lady  Lillycraft 
bullied  them  with  impunity. 


THE  CULPRIT.  193 

The  examination  was  conducted  with  great 
mildness  and  indulgence  by  the  Squire,  partly 
from  the  kindness  of  his  nature,  and  partly,  I 
suspect,  because  his  heart  yearned  towards  the 
culprit,  who,  as  I  have  before  mentioned,  had 
found  great  favour  in  his  eyes  from  the  skill  he 
had  at  various  times  displayed  in  archery,  mor- 
rice  dancing,  and  other  obsolete  accomplish 
ments.  Proofs,  however,  were  too  strong.  Ready 
Money  Jack  told  his  story  in  a  straight  forward, 
independent  way  ;  nothing  daunted  by  the  pre 
sence  in  which  he  found  himself.  He  had  suf 
fered  from  various  depredations  on  his  sheepfold 
and  poultry  yard  ;  and  had  at  length  kept  watch, 
and  caught  the  delinquent  in  the  very  act  of 
making  off  with  a  sheep  on  his  shoulders. 

Tibbets  was  repeatedly  interrupted  in  the 
course  of  his  testimony,  by  the  culprit's  mother, 
a  furious  old  beldame  with  an  insufferable  tongue, 
and  who,  in  fact,  was  several  times  on  the  point 
of  flying  at  him,  tooth  and  nail.  The  wife  of 
the  prisoner,  whom  I  am  told  he  does  not  beat 
above  half  a  dozen  times  a  week,  completely  in- 

VOL.  ii.  25 


194  THE  CULPRIT. 

terested  Lady  Lillycraft  in  her  husband's  behalf, 
by  her  tears  and  supplications,  and  several  of  the 
other  gipsy  women  were  awakening  strong  sym 
pathy  among  the  young  girls  and  maid  servants 
in  the  back  ground.  The  pretty  black  eyed 
gipsy  girl  whom  I  have  mentioned  on  a  former 
occasion  as  the  sybil  that  read  the  fortunes  of 
the  general,  now  endeavoured  to  wheedle  that 
doughty  warrior  into  their  interests,  and  even 
made  some  approaches  to  her  old  acquaintance, 
Master  Simon,  but  was  repelled  by  the  latter 
with  all  the  dignity  of  office,  having  assumed  a 
gravity  and  importance  suitable  to  the  occasion. 
I  was  a  little  surprised,  at  iirst,  to  find  honest 
Slingsby,  the  schoolmaster,  rather  opposed  to  his 
old  crony,  Tibbets,  and  coming  forward  as  a 
kind  of  advocate  for  the  accused.  It  seems  that 
he  had  taken  compassion  on  the  forlorn  fortunes 
of  Star-light  Tom,  arid  had  been  trying  his  elo 
quence  in  his  favour  the  whole  way  from  the  vil 
lage,  but  without  effect.  During  the  examina 
tion  of  Ready  Money  Jack,  also,  Slingsby  had 
stood  like  "  dejected  pity  at  his  side,"  seeking 


THE  CULPRIT.  195 

every  now  and  then,  by  a  soft  word,  to  soothe  any 
exacerbation  of  his  ire,  or  to  qualify  any  harsh 
expression.  He  now  ventured  to  make  a  few 
observations  to  the  Squire  in  palliation  of  the 
delinquent's  offences,  but  poor  Slingsby  spoke 
more  from  the  heart  than  the  head,  and  was  evi 
dently  actuated  merely  by  a  general  sympathy 
for  any  poor  devil  in  trouble,  and  a  liberal  tole 
ration  for  all  kinds  of  vagabond  existence. 

The  ladies,  too,  large  and  small,  with  the 
kind-heartedness  of  the  sex,  were  zealous  on  the 
side  of  mercy,  and  interceded  strenuously  with 
the  Squire,  insomuch  that  the  prisoner,  finding 
himself  unexpectedly  surrounded  by  active 
friends,  once  more  reared  his  crest,  and  seemed 
disposed  for  a  time  to  put  on  the  airs  of  injured 
innocence.  The  Squire,  however,  with  all  his 
benevolence  of  heart,  and  his  lurking  weak 
ness  towards  the  prisoner,  was  too  conscientious 
to  swerve  from  the  strict  path  of  justice.  There 
was  abundant  concurring  testimony,  that  made 
the  proof  of  guilt  incontrovertible,  and  Star 
light  Tom's  mittimus  was  made  out  accordingly. 


196  THE  CULPRIT. 

The  sympathy  of  the  ladies  was  now  greater 
than  ever ;  they  even  made  some  attempts  to 
mollify  the  ire  of  Ready  Money  Jack ;  but  that 
sturdy  potentate  had  been  too  much  incensed 
by  the  repeated  incursions  that  had  been  made 
into  his  territories  by  the  predatory  band  of 
Star-light  Tom,  and  he  was  resolved,  he  said, 
to  drive  the  "  varment  reptiles"  out  of  the 
neighbourhood.  To  avoid  all  further  importu 
nities,  as  soon  as  the  mittimus  was  made  out, 
he  girded  up  his  loins,  and  strode  back  to  his 
seat  of  empire,  accompanied  by  his  interceding 
friend,  Slingsby,  and  followed  by  a  detachment 
of  the  gipsy  gang ;  who  hung  on  his  rear,  as 
sailing  him  with  mingled  prayers  and  execra- 
crations. 

The  question  now  was  how  to  dispose  of  the 
prisoner;  a  matter  of  great  moment  in  this 
peaceful  establishment,  where  so  formidable  a 
character  as  Star-light  Torn  was  like  a  hawk 
entrapped  in  a  dove  cote.  As  the  hubbub  and 
examination  had  occupied  a  considerable  time 
it  was  too  late  in  the  day  to  send  him  to  the 


THE  CULPRIT.  197 

county  prison,  and  that  of  the  village  was  sadly 
out  of  repair,  from  long  want  of  occupation. 
Old  Christy,  who  took  great  interest  in  the  affair, 
proposed  that  the  culprit  should  be  committed 
for  the  night  to  an  upper  loft  of  a  kind  of  tower 
in  one  of  the  outhouses,  where  he  and  the 
gamekeeper  would  mount  guard.  After  much 
deliberation  this  measure  was  adopted  ;  the  pre 
mises  in  question  were  examined  and  made  se 
cure,  and  Christy  and  his  trusty  ally,  the  one 
armed  with  a  fowling  piece,  the  other  with  an 
ancient  blunderbuss,  turned  out  as  sentries  to 
keep  watch  over  this  donjon  keep. 

Such  is  the  momentous  affair  that  has  just 
taken  place,  and  it  is  an  event  of  too  great  mo 
ment  in  this  quiet  little  world  not  to  turn  it 
completely  topsy-turvy.  Labour  is  at  a  stand. 
The  house  has  been  a  scene  of  confusion  the 
whole  evening.  The  mansion  has  been  be- 
leagured  by  gipsy  women,  with  their  children  on 
their  backs,  wailing  and  lamenting.  While  the  old 
virago  of  a  mother  has  cruised  up  and  down  be 
fore  the  house,  shaking  her  head  and  muttering 


198  THE  CULPRIT. 

to  herself,  and  now  and  then  breaking  into  a 
paroxysm  of  rage,  brandishing  her  fist  at  the 
Hall,  and  denouncing  ill  luck  upon  Ready  Mo 
ney  Jack  and  even  upon  the  Squire  himself. 

Lady  Lillycraft  has  given  repeated  audiences 
to  the  culprit's  weeping  wife  at  the  hall  door ;  and 
the  servant  maids  have  stole  out  to  confer  with 
the  gipsy  women  under  the  trees.  As  to  the 
little  ladies  of  the  family,  they  are  all  outrageous 
at  Ready  Money  Jack ;  whom  they  look  upon 
in  the  light  of  a  tyrannical  giant  of  fairy  tale. 

Phoebe  Wilkins,  contrary  to  her  usual  nature, 
is  the  only  female  that  is  pitiless  in  this  affair. 
She  thinks  Mr.  Tibbets  quite  in  the  right ;  and 
thinks  the  gipsies  deserve  to  be  punished  severe 
ly  for  meddling  with  the  sheep  of  the  Tibbets'. 

In  the  mean  time  the  females  of  the  family 
have  evinced  all  the  provident  kindness  of  the 
sex,  ever  ready  to  soothe  and  succour  the  distress 
ed,  right  or  wrong.  Lady  Lillycraft  has  had  a 
mattress  taken  to  the  outhouse,  and  comforts 
and  delicacies  of  all  kinds  have  been  taken  to  the 
prisoner ;  even  the  little  girls  have  sent  their 


THE  CULPRIT.  199 

cakes  and  sweetmeats ;  so  that,  I'll  warrant,  the 
vagabond  has  never  fared  so  well  in  his  life  be 
fore.  Old  Christy,  it  is  true,  looks  upon  every 
thing  with  a  warye}e;  struts  about  with  his 
blunderbuss  with  the  air  of  a  veteran  campaigner, 
keeps  every  one  'at  bay.  and  will  hardly  allow 
himself  to  be  spoken  to.  The  gipsy  women 
dare  not  come  within  gunshot,  and  every  tatter 
demalion  of  a  boy  has  been  frightened  from  the 
park.  The  old  fellow  is  determined  to  lodge 
Star-light  Tom  in  prison  with  his  own  hands, 
and  hopes,  he  says,  to  see  one  of  the  poaching 
crew  made  an  example  of. 

I  doubt,  after  all,  whether  the  worthy  Squire 
is  not  the  greatest  sufferer  in  the  whole  affair. 
His  honourable  sense  of  duty  obliges  him  to  be 
rigid,  but  the  overflowing  kindness  of  his  na 
ture  makes  this  a  grievous  trial  to  him.  He  is 
not  accustomed  to  have  such  demands  upon  his 
justice,  in  his  truly  patriarchal  domain  ;  and  it 
wounds  his  benevolent  spirit,  that,  while  pros 
perity  and  happiness  are  flowing  in  thus  boun- 


^00  THE  CULPRIT. 

teouslj  upon    him,   he  should  have   to    inflict 
misery  upon  &  fellow  being. 

He  has  been  troubled  and  cast  down  the  whole 
evening  ;  took  leave  of  the  family  on  going  to 
bed  with  a  sigh,  instead  of  his  usual  hearty  and 
affectionate  tone  ;  and  will  in  all  probability  have 
a  far  more  sleepless  night  than  his  prisoner.  In 
deed  this  unlucky  affair  has  cast  a  damp  upon  the 
whole  househould ;  as  there  appears  to  be  an 
universal  opinion  that  the  unlucky  culprit  will 
come  to  the  gallows. 

MORNING.  The  clouds  of  last  evening  are 
all  blown  over.  A  load  has  been  taken  from 
the  Squire's  heart,  and  every  face  is  once  more 
in  smiles.  The  gamekeeper  made  his  appear 
ance  at  an  early  hour,  completely  shamefaced 
and  chapfallen.  Star-light  Tom  had  made  his 
escape  in  the  night ;  how  he  had  got  out  of  the 
loft  no  one  could  tell ;  the  Devil  must  have  as 
sisted  him.  Old  Christy  was  so  mortified  that 
he  would  not  show  his  face,  but  had  shut  him 
self  up  in  his  strong  hold  at  the  dog-kennel,  and 


THE  CULPRIT.  201 

would  not  be  spoken  with.  What  has  particu 
larly  relieved  the  Squire,  is  that  there  is  very 
little  likelihood  of  the  culprit's  being  retaken, 
having  gone  off  on  one  of  the  old  gentleman's 
best  hunters. 


VOL.  ii.  26 


THE  HISTORIAN. 


I  HAVE  forborne  to  recount  various  tales  which 
have  been  told  during  the  evenings  at  the  Hall, 
because  some  of  them  were  rather  hackneyed 
and  tedious,  and  others  I  did  not  feel  warranted 
in  betraying  into  print.  I  was  suddenly  startled 
lately  by  a  call  from  the  Squire  to  furnish  a  story 
in  my  turn,  and  having  been  a  profound  listener 
to  those  of  others,  I  could  not  in  conscience  re 
fuse  ;  so  I  begged  leave  to  read  a  manuscript  tale 
from  the  pen  of  the  late  Mr.  Deidrich  Knicker 
bocker,  the  historian  of  New- York. 

As  some  curiosity  was  expressed  about  the  au 
thor,  I  had  to  explain,  "  that  he  was  a  native  of 
New- York,  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  ancient 
Dutch  families  that  originally  settled  that  pro 
vince,  and  remained  there  after  it  was  taken 
possession  of  by  the  English,  in  1664.  That 


THE  HISTORIAN.  20S 

the  descendants  of  these  Dutch  families  still  re 
mained  in  villages  and  neighbourhoods  in  vari 
ous  parts  of  the  country  ;  retaining  with  singular 
fidelity,  the  dresses,  manners,  and  even  language 
of  their  ancestors,  and  forming  a  very  distinct 
and  curious  feature  in  the  population  of  the 
state. 

That  Mr.  Knickerbocker  had  written  a  history 
of  his  native  city,  comprising  the  reign  of  the 
three  first  governors  who  held  a  delegated  sway 
under  the  Hogen  Mogens  of  Holland.  That  in 
this  the  worthy  little  Dutchman  had  displayed 
great  historical  research,  and  a  wonderful  sense 
of  the  dignity  of  his  subject;  but  that  his  work 
had  been  so  little  understood  as  to  be  pronounced 
a  mere  work  of  humour ;  satirizing  the  follies 
of  the  times  in  politics  and  morals,  and  giving 
whimsical  views  of  human  nature. 

That  among  the  papers  left  behind  him  were 
several  tales  of  a  lighter  nature,  apparently 
thrown  together  from  materials  which  he  had 
gathered  during  his  profound  researches  for  his 
history  ;  and  which  he  seemed  to  have  thrown 


204  THE  HISTORIAN. 

by  with  neglect,  as  unworthy  of  publication. 
That  these  had  fallen  into  my  hands  by  an  acci 
dent  which  it  was  needless  to  mention,  and  one 
of  those  stories,  with  its  prelude,  in  the  words  of 
Mr.  Knickerbocker,  I  now  undertook  to  read, 
by  way  of  acquitting  myself  of  the  debt  which 
I  owed  to  the  other  story-tellers  in  company. 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

FROM  THE  MSS.  OF  THE  LATE  DEIDRICH  KNICKERBOCKER, 


Formerly  almost  every  place  had  a  house  of  this  kind.  If  a  house 
was  seated  on  some  melancholy  place,  or  built  in  some  old  roman 
tic  manner;  or  if  any  particular  accident  had  happened  in  it;  such 
as  murder,  sudden  death,  or  the  like,  to  be  sure  that  house  had  a 
mark  set  on  it,  and  was  afterwards  esteemed  the  habitation  of  a 


BOURNE  's  AHTIQUITIES. 


IN  the  neighbourhood  of  the  ancient  City  of 
Manhattoes  there  stood,  not  very  many  years 
since,  an  old  mansion,  which,  when  I  was  a  boy, 
went  by  the  name  of  the  Haunted  House.  It  was 
one  of  the  very  few  remains  of  the  architecture 
of  the  early  Dutch  settlers,  and  must  have  been 
a  house  of  some  consequence  at  the  time  when 
it  was  built.  It  consisted  of  a  centre  and  two 
wings,  the  gable  ends  of  which  were  shaped 
like  stairs.  It  was  built  partly  of  wood,  and 


206  THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

partly  of  small  Dutch  bricks,  such  as  the  wor 
thy  colonists  brought  with  them  from  Holland  ; 
before  they  discovered  that  bricks  could  be 
manufactured  elsewhere.  The  house  stood  re 
mote  from  the*  road,  in  the  centre  of  a  large 
field,  with  an  avenue  of  old  locust*  trees  lead 
ing  up  to  it,  several  of  which  had  been  shiver 
ed  by  lightning,  and  two  or  three  blown  down. 

A  few  apple  trees  grew  straggling  about  the 
field ;  there  were  traces  also  of  what  had  been 
a  kitchen  garden,  but  the  fences  were  broken 
down,  the  vegetables  had  disappeared,  or  had 
grown  wild  and  turned  to  little  better  than 
weeds,  with  here  and  there  a  ragged  rose  bush 
or  a  tall  sunflower  shooting  up  from  among  the 
brambles,  and  hanging  its  head  sorrowfully,  as 
if  contemplating  the  desolation  around  it.  Part 
of  the  roof  of  the  old  house  had  fallen  in ;  the 
windows  were  shattered;  the  pannels  of  the 
doors  broken,  and  mended  with  rough  boards ; 
and  there  were  two  rusty  weathercocks  at  the 
ends  of  the  house,  which  made  a  great  jingling 


*  Acacias. 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE.  207 

and  whistling  as  they  whirled  about,  but  always 
poiutecl  wrong.  The  appearance  of  the  whole 
was  forlorn  and  desolate  at  the  best  of  times ; 
but  in  unruly  weather,  the  howling  of  the  wind 
about  the  crazy  old  mansion ;  the  screeching  of 
the  weathercocks;  the  slamming  and  banging 
of  a  few  loose  window  shutters — had  altogether 
so  wild  and  dreary  an  effect,  that  the  neighbour 
hood  stood  perfectly  in  awe  of  the  place,  and 
pronounced  it  the  rendezvous  of  hobgoblins.  I 
recollect  the  old  building  well,  for  I  recollect 
how  many  times,  when  an  idle,  unlucky  urchin, 
I  have  prowled  round  its  precincts  with  some 
of  my  graceless  companions,  on  holyday  after 
noons,  when  out  on  a  freebooting  cruise  among 
the  orchards. 

There  was  a  tree  standing  near  the  house 
that  bore  the  most  beautiful  and  tempting  fruit ; 
but  then  it  was  on  enchanted  ground,  for  the 
place  was  so  charmed  by  frightful  stories  that  we 
dreaded  to  approach  it.  Sometimes  we  would 
venture,  in  a  body,  and  get  near  the  Hesperian 
tree,  keeping  an  eye  upon  the  old  mansion,  and 


208  THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

darting  fearful  glances  into  its  shattered  win 
dows  ;  when,  just  as  we  were  about  tf>  seize 
upon  our  prize,  an  exclamation  from  some  one 
of  the  gang,  or  an  accidental  noise,  would  throw 
us  all  into  a  panic,  and  we  wo  old  scamper  head 
long  from  the  place,  nor  ever  stop  until  we  had 
got  quite  into  the  road.  Then  there  were  sure 
to  be  a  host  of  anecdotes  told  about  strange 
cries,  and  groans  ;  or  of  some  hideous  face,  sud 
denly  seen  staring  out  of  one  of  the  windows. 
By  degrees  we  ceased  to  venture  into  these  lone 
ly  grounds ;  but  would  stand  at  a  distance,  and 
throw  stones  at  the  building  ;  and  there  was  some 
thing  fearfully  pleasing  in  the  sound,  as  they 
rattled  along  the  roof,  or  sometimes  struck  some 
jingling  fragments  of  glass  out  of  the  windows. 

The  origin  of  the  house  was  lost  in  the  obscu 
rity  that  covers  the  early  period  of  the  province, 
whilst  under  the  government  of  their  High 
Mightinesses  the  States  General.  Some  report 
ed  it  to  have  been  a  country  residence  of  Wil- 
helmus  Kieft,  commonly  called  the  Testy,  one  of 
the  Dutch  governors  of  New-Amsterdam  ;  others 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE..  ^  209 

said  that  it  had  been  built  by  a  naval  command 
er,  who  served  under  Van  Tromp,  and  who,  on 
being  disappointed  of  preferment,  retired  from 
the  service  in  disgust ;  became  a  philosopher 
through  sheer  spire ;  and  brought  over  all  his 
wealth  to  the  province,  that  he  might  live  accord 
ing  to  his  humour,  and  despise  the  world.  The 
reason  of  its  having  fallen  to  decay  was  likewise 
a  matter  of  dispute :  some  said  that  it  was  in 
chancery,  and  had  already  cost  more  than  its 
worth  in  legal  expenses  ;  but  the  most  current, 
and  of  course  the  most  probable  account  was, 
that  it  was  haunted  ;  and  that  nobody  could  live 
quietly  in  it.  There  can  in  fact  be  very  little 
doubt  that  this  last  was  the  case  ;  there  were  so 
many  corroborating  stories  to  prove  it ;  riot  an 
old  woman  in  the  neighbourhood  but  could  fur 
nish  at  least  a  score.  There  was  a  gray  headed 
curmudgeon  of  a  negro  that  lived  hard  by,  who 
had  a  whole  budget  of  them  to  tell ;  many  of 
which  had  happened  to  himself. 

I  recollect  many    a  time  stopping   with  my 

VOL.  n.  27 


210  THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

schoolmates  and  getting  him  to  relate  some. 
The  old  crone  lived  in  a  hovel,  in  the  midst  of  a 
small  patch  of  potatoei  and  Indian  corn,  which 
his  master  had  given  him  on  setting  him  free. 
He  would  come  to  us,  with  his  hoe  in  his  hand, 
and,  as  we  sat  perched  like  a  row  of  swallows, 
on  the  rail  of  the  fence,  in  the  mellow  twilight 
of  a  summer  evening,  he  would  tell  us  such 
fearful  stories,  accompanied  by  such  awful 
rollings  of  his  white  eyes,  that  we  w«re  almost 
afraid  of  our  own  footsteps  as  we  returned  home 
afterwards  in  the  dark. 

Poor  old  Pompey  !  many  years  are  past  since 
he  died,  and  went  to  keep  company  with  the 
ghosts  he  was  so  fond  of  talking  about. 

He  was  buried  in  a  corner  of  his  own  little 
ito  patch  ;  the  plough  soon  passed  over  his 

ive,  and  levelled  it  with  the  rest  of  the  field, 
and  nobody  thought  any  more  of  the  gray  headed 
negro.  By  singular  chance  I  was  strolling  in 
that  neighbourhood  several  years  afterwards, 
when  I  had  grown  up  to  be  a  young  man,  and  I 
found  a  knot  of  gossips  speculating  on  a  skull 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE.  21 1 

which  had  just   been  turned  up  by  a  plough 
share. 

They  of  course  determined  it  to  be  the  re 
mains  of  some  one  that  had  been  murdered ;  and 
they  had  raked  up  with  it  some  of  the  tradition 
ary  tales  of  the  haunted  house.  I  knew  it  at 
once  to  be  the  relique  of  poor  Pompey,  but  I 
held  my  tongue ;  for  I  am  too  considerate  of 
other  people's  enjoyment,  ever  to  mar  a  story  of 
a  ghost  or  a  murder.  I  took  care,  however,  to 
see  the  bones  of  my  old  friend  once  more  buried, 
in  a  place  where  they  were  not  likely  to  be  dis 
turbed.  As  I  sat  on  the  turf  and  watched  the 
interment,  I  fell  into  a  long  conversation  with  an 
old  gentleman  of  the  neighbourhood,  John  Josse 
Vandermoere,  a  pleasant  gossiping  man,  whose 
whole  life  was  spent  in  hearing  and  telling  ihe 
news  of  the  province.  He  recollected  old  PoiP 
pey  and  his  stories  about  the  haunted  house ; 
but  he  assured  me  he  could  give  me  one  still 
more  strange  than  any  that  Pompey  had  related ; 
and  on  my  expressing  a  great  curiosity  to  hear  it, 
he  sat  down  beside  me  on  the  turf,  and  told  the 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

following  tale.  I  have  endeavoured  to  give  it  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  his  words ;  but  it  is  now 
many  years  since,  and  I  am  grown  old,  and  my 
memory  is  not  over  good.  1  cannot,  therefore, 
vouch  for  the  language ;  but  I  am  always  scru 
pulous  as  to  facts. 

D.  K. 


* 


DOLPH    HEYLIGER 


I  take  the  town  of  Concord,  where  I  dwell, 

All  Kilboni  be  my  witness,  if  I  were  not 

Begot  in  bashful  ness,  brought  up  in  sharaefacedness ; 

Let  'un  bring  a  dog  but  to  my  vace  that  can 

Zay  I  have  beat  'un,  and  without  a  vault ; 

Or  but  a  cat  will  swear  upon  a  book 

I  have  as  much  as  zet  a  vire  her  tail, 

And  I  will  give  him  or  her  a  crown  for  'mends. 

OLD  PLAY  OF  THE  TALE  OF  A  TUB. 


IN  the  early  times  of  the  province  of  New- 
York,  while  it  groaned  under  the  tyranny  of  the 
English  governor,  Lord  Cornbury,  who  carried 
his  cruelties  toward  the  Dutch  inhabitants  so  jar 
as  to  allow  no  dominie  nor  schoolmaster  to  o^j| 
ciate  in  their  language,  without  his  special  li 
cense  ;  about  this  time  there  lived,  in  the  jolly  lit 
tle  old  city  of  the  Manhattoes,  a  kind,  motherly 
dame,  known  by  the  name  of  Dame  Heyliger. 
She  was  the  widow  of  a  Dutch  sea  captain, 


214  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

who  died  suddenly  of  a  fever,  in  consequence  of 
working  too  hard,  and  eating  too  heartily,  at 
the  time  when  all  the  inhabitants  turned  out  in 
a  panic,  to  fortify  the  place  against  the  invasion 
of  a  small  French  privateer.*  He  left  her  with 
very  little  money,  and  one  infant  son,  the  only 
survivor  of  several  children.  The  good  woman 
had  need  of  much  management  to  make  both 
ends  meet,  and  keep  up  a  decent  appearance. 
However,  as  her  husband  had  fallen  a  victim  to 
his  zeal  for  the  public  safety,  it  was  universally 
agreed  that  "  something  ought  to  be  done  for  the 
widow  ;"  and  on  the  hopes  of  this  "something" 
she  lived  very  tolerably  for  some  years ;  in  the 
mean  time  every  body  pitied  and  spoke  well  of 
her;  and  that  helped  along. 

She  lived  in  a  small  house,  in  a  small  street, 
called  Garden  Street :  very  probably  from  a 
garden  which  may  have  flourished  there  some 
time  or  other.  As  her  necessities  every  year 
grew  greater,  and  the  talk  of  the  public  about 
"  doing  something  for  her,"  grew  less,  she  had 

*1705. 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  215 

to  cast  about  for  some  mode  of  doing  something 
for  herself  by  way  of  helping  out  her  slender 
means,  and  maintaining  her  independence,  of 
which  she  was  somewhat  tenacious. 

Living  in  a  mercantile  town,  she  had  caught 
something  of  the  spirit,  and  determined  to  ven 
ture  a  little  in  the  great  lottery  of  commerce. 
On  a  sudden,  therefore,  to  the  great  surprise  of 
the  street,  there  appeared  at  her  window  a  grand 
array  of   gingerbread   kings    and  queens,  with 
their  arms  stuck  a-kimbo,  after  the  invariable 
royal  manner.     There  were  also  several  broken 
tumblers,  some  filled  with  sugar  plumbs,  some 
with  marbles ;  there  were,   moreover,  cakes  of 
various  kinds ;  and  barley  sugar,  and  Holland 
dolls,  and  wooden  horses ;  with  here  and  there 
gilt  covered  picture  books,  and  now  and  then  a 
skein  of  thread,  or  a  dangling  pound  of  candle^" 
At  the  door  of    the  house    sat    the  good   old 
dame's  cat ;  a  decent  demure  looking  personage, 
that  seemed  to  scan  every  body  that  passed  ;  to 
criticise  their  dress ;  and  now  and  then  to  stretch 
her  neck,  and  look  out  with  sudden  curiosity,  to 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

see  what  was  going  on  at  the  other  end  of  the 
street ;  but  if  by  chance  any  idle  vagabond  dog 
came  by  and  offered  to  be  uncivil — hoity-toity  ! 
how  she  would  bristle  up,  and  growl,  and  spit, 
and  strike  out  her  paws ;  she  was  as  indignant 
as  ever  was  an  ancient  and  ugly  spinster  on  the 
approach  of  some  graceless  profligate. 

But  though  the  good  woman  had  to  come 
down  to  those  humble  means  of  subsistence,  yet 
she  still  kept  up  a  feeling  of  family  pride  ;  hav 
ing  descended  from  the  Vanderspiegels  of  Am 
sterdam  ;  and  she  had  the  family  arms  painted 
and  framed,  and  hung  over  her  mantlepiece.  She 
\vas  in  truth  much  respected  by  all  the  poorer 
people  of  the  place ;  her  house  was  quite  a  re 
sort  of  the  old  wives  of  the  neighbourhood  ;  they 
would  drop  in  there  of  a  winter's  afternoon,  as 
$le  sat  knitting  on  one  side  of  her  fireplace,  her 
cat  purring  on  the  other,  and  the  tea-kettle  sing 
ing  before  it ;  and  they  would  gossip  with  her 
until  late  in  the  evening.  There  was  always  an 
arm-chair  for  old  Peter  de  Groodt,  sometimes 
called  long  Peter,  and  sometimes  Peter  long-legs, 


BOLPH  HEYLIGER.  217 

the  clerk  and  sexton  of  the  little  Lutheran 
church  ;  who  was  her  great  crony,  and,  indeed, 
the  oracle  of  her  fireside.  Nay,  the  dominie 
himself  did  not  disdain  now  and  then  to  stop  in, 
converse  about  the  state  of  her  mind,  and  take  a 
glass  of  her  especial  good  cherry  brandy.  In 
deed,  he  never  failed  to  call  on  new  year's  day 
and  wish  her  a  happy  new  year  ;  and  the  good 
dame,  who  was  a  little  vain  on  some  points,  al 
ways  piqued  herself  on  giving  him  as  large  a  cake 
as  any  one  in  town. 

I  have  said  that  she  had  one  son.  He  was 
the  child  of  her  old  age ;  but  -could  hardly  be 
called  the  comfort ;  for,  of  all  unlucky  urchins, 
Dolph  Heyliger  was  the  most  mischievous.  Not 
that  the  whipster  was  really  vicious ;  he  was 
only  full  of  fun  and  frolick ;  and  had  that  daring 
gamesome  spirit  which  is  extolled  in  a  rich  man's 
child  ;  but  execrated  in  a  poor  man's.  He  was 
continually  getting  into  scrapes ;  his  mother  was 
incessantly  harassed  with  complaints  of  some 
waggish  prank  which  he  had  played  off;  bills 
were  sent  in  for  windows  that  he  had  broken  ;  in 

VOL.  IT.  38 


°21S  DOLPH  HEYLIGEK. 

a  word,  he  had  not  reached  his  fourteenth  year? 
before  he  was  pronounced,  by  all  the  neighbour 
hood,  to  be  a  "  wicked  dog,  the  wickedest  dog 
in  the  street !"  Nay,  one  old  gentleman  in  a 
claret  coloured  coat,  with  a  thin  red  face  and 
ferret  eyes,  went  so  far  as  to  assure  Dame  Hey- 
liger  that  her  son  would  one  day  or  other  come 
to  the  gallows ! 

Yet,  notwithstanding  all  this,  the  poor  old  soul 
loved  her  boy.  It  seemed  as  though  she  loved 
him  the  better  the  worse  he  behaved  ;  and  that 
he  grew  more  in  her  favour  the  more  he  grew 
out  of  favour  with  the  world.  Mothers  are 
foolish,  fond  hearted  beings ;  there's  no  reason 
ing  them  out  of  their  dotage ;  and,  indeed,  this 
poor  woman's  child  was  all  that  was  left  to  love 
her  in  this  world  ;  so  W7e  must  not  think  it  hard 
that  she  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  her  good  friends 
who  sought  to  prove  to  her  that  Dolph  must  in 
evitably  come  to  a  halter.  To  do  the  varlet  jus 
tice,  too,  he  was  strongly  attached  to  his  parent. 
He  would  not  willingly  have  given  her  pain  on 
any  account ;  and  when  he  had  been  doing  wrong, 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  219 

it  was  but  fo~  him  to  catch  his  poor  mother's  eye 
fixed  wistfully  and  sorrowfully  upon  him,  to  fill 
his  heart  with  bitterness  and  contrition.  But  he 
was  a  heedless  youngster,  and  could  not,  for  the 
life  of  him,  resist  any  new  temptation  to  fun  and 
mischief.  Though  quick  at  his  learning,  when 
ever  he  could  be  brought  to  apply  himself,  yet  he 
was  always  prone  to  be  led  away  by  idle  com 
pany  ;  and  would  play  truant  to  hunt  after  bird's 
nests,  to  rob  orchards,  or  to  swim  in  the  Hud 
son. 

In  this  way  he  grew  up,  a  tall,  lubberly  boy, 
and  his  mother  began  to  be  greatly  perplexed 
what  to  do  with  him ;  or  how  to  put  him  in  a 
way  to  do  for  himself;  for  he  had  acquired  such 
an  unlucky  reputation,  that  no  one  seemed  will 
ing  to  employ  him.  Many  was  the  consultation 
that  she  held  with  Peter  de  Groodt,  the  clerk 
and  sexton,  who  was  her  prime  councillor. 
Peter  was  as  much  perplexed  as  herself,  for  he 
had  no  great  opinion  of  the  boy,  and  thought  he 
would  never  come  to  good.  He  at  one  time 
advised  her  to  send  him  to  sea ;  a  piece  of  advice 


220  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

only  given  in  the  most  desperate  cases ;  but  Dame 
Heyliger  would  not  listen  to  such  an  idea ;  she 
could  not  think  of  letting  Dolph  go  out  of  her 
sight.  She  was  sitting  one  day  knitting  by  her 
fireside,  in  great  perplexity,  when  the  sexton 
entered  \vith  an  air  of  unusual  vivacity  and  brisk 
ness.  He  had  just  come  from  a  funeral.  It  had 
been  that  of  a  boy  of  Dolph's  years,  who  had 
been  apprentice  to  a  famous  German  doctor, 
who  had  died  of  a  consumption.  It  is  true  there 
had  been  a  whisper  that  the  deceased  had  been 
brought  to  his  end  by  being  made  the  subject  of 
the  doctor's  experiments ;  on  which  he  was  apt 
to  try  the  effects  of  a  new  compound,  or  a  quiet 
ing  draught.  This,  however,  it  is  likely,  was  a 
mere  scandal ;  at  any  rate  Peter  de  Groodt  did 
not  think  it  worth  mentioning  ;  though,  had  we 
time  to  philosophize,  it  would  be  a  curious  mat 
ter  for  speculation,  why  a  doctor's  family  is  apt 
to  be  so  lean  and  cadaverous,  and  a  butcher's  so 
jolly  and  rubicund. 

Peter  de  Groodt,  as  I  said  before,  entered  the 
house  of  Dame  Heyliger  with  unusual  alacrity. 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  221 

He  was  full  of  a  bright  idea  that  had  popped 
into  his  head  at  the  funeral,  and  over  which  he 
had  chuckled  as  he  shovelled  the  earth  into  the 
grave  of  the  doctor's  disciple.  It  had  occurred 
to  him  thar,  as  the  situation  of  the  deceased  was 
vacant  at  the  doctor's,  it  would  be  the  very 
place  for  Dolph.  The  boy  had  parts,  and  could 
pound  a  pestle  and  run  an  errand  with  any  boy  in 
the  town  ;  and  what  more  was  wanted  in  a  stu 
dent  ? 

The  suggestion  of  the  sage  Peter  was  a  vision 
of  glory  to  the  mother ;  she  already  saw  Dolph 
in  her  mind's  eye,  with  a  cane  at  his  nose,  a 
knocker  at  his  door,  and  an  M.  D.  at  the  end 
of  his  name ;  one  of  the  established  dignitaries  of 
the  town ! 

The  matter  once  undertaken  was  soon  effect 
ed  :  the  sexton  had  some  influence  with  the 
doctor,  they  having  had  much  dealing  together 
in  the  way  of  their  separate  professions ;  and 
the  very  next  morning  he  called  and  conducted 
the  urchin,  clad  in  his  Sunday  clothes,  to  undergo 


222  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

the  inspection  of  Doctor  Karl  Lodovich  Knip- 
perhausen. 

They  found  the  doctor  seated  in  an  elbow 
chair  in  one  corner  of  his  study  or  laboratory, 
with  a  large  volume  in  German  print  before  him. 

He  was  a  short,  fat  man,  with  a  dark  square 
lace,  rendered  more  dark  by  a  black  velvet  cap. 
He  had  a  little  nobbed  nose,  not  unlike  the  ace 
of  spades,  with  a  pair  of  spectacles  gleaming 
on  each  side  of  his  dusky  countenance,  like  a 
couple  of  bow  windows. 

Dolph  felt  struck  with  awe  on  entering  into 
the  presence  of  this  learned  man  ;  and  gazed 
about  him  with  boyish  wonder  at  the  furniture 
of  this  chamber  of  knowledge  ;  which  appeared 
to  him  almost  as  the  den  of  a  magician.  In  the 
centre  stood  a  clawfooted  table,  with  pestle  and 
mortar,  phials,  and  gallipots,  and  a  pair  of  small 
burnished  scales.  At  one  end  was  a  heavy 
clothes  press,  turned  into  a  receptacle  for  drugs 
and  compounds,  against  which  hung  the  doctor's 
hat,  and  cloak,  and  gold-headed  cane ;  and  on 
the  top  grinned  a  human  scull.  Along  the  man- 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  223 

tlepiece  were  glass  vessels  holding  snakes  and 
lizards,  and  a  human  foetus  preserved  in  spirits., 
A  closet,  the  doors  of  which  were  taken  off, 
contained  three  whole  shelves  full  of  books,  and 
some,  too,  of  mighty  folio  dimensions ;  a  col 
lection,  the  like  of  which  Dolph  had  never  be 
fore  heheld.  As,  however,  the  library  did  not 
take  up  the  whole  of  the  closet,  the  doctor's 
thrifty  housekeeper  had  occupied  the  rest  with 
pots  of  pickles  and  preserves ;  and  had  hung 
about  the  room,  among  awful  implements  of  the 
healing  art,  strings  of  red  peppers  and  corpulent 
cucumbers,  carefully  preserved  for  seed. 

Peter  de  Groodt  and  his  protege  were  re 
ceived  with  great  gravity  and  stateliness  by  the 
doctor,  who  was  a  very  wise,  dignified  little 
man,  and  never  smiled.  He  surveyed  Dolph 
from  head  to  foot,  above,  and  under,  and  through 
his  spectacles,  and  the  poor  lad's  heart  quailed  as 
these  great  glasses  glared  on  him  like  two  full 
moons.  The  doctor  heard  all  that  Peter  de 
Groodt  had  to  say  in  favour  of  the  youthful  can 
didate  ;  and  then,  wetting  his  thumb  with  the 


224  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

end  of  his  tongue,  he  began  deliberately  to  turn 
over  page  after  page  of  the  great  black  volume 
before  him.     At  length,  after  many  hums,  and 
haws,  and  sirokings  of  the  chin  ;  and  all  that  he 
sitation  and  deliberation  with  which  a  wise  man 
proceeds  to  do  what  he  intended  to  do  from  the 
very  first,  the  doctor  agreed  to  take  the  lad  as  a 
disciple ;  to  give  him  bed,  board,  and  clothing, 
and  to  instruct  him  in  the  healing  art ;  in  return 
for  which  he  was  to  have  his  services  until  his 
twenty-first  year.     Behold,  then,  our  hero,  all  at 
once  transformed  from  an  unlucky  urchin,  run 
ning  wild  about  the  streets,  to  a  student  of  medi 
cine,  diligently  pounding  a  pestle  under  the  au 
spices  of  the   learned  Doctor   Karl   Lodovich 
Knipperhauseri.     It  was  a  happy  transition  for 
his  fond  old  mother.     She  was  delighted  with 
the  idea  of  her  boy's  being  brought  up  worthy 
of  his  ancestors,  and  anticipated  the  day  when 
he  would  be  able  to  hold  up  his  head  with  the 
lawyer  that  lived  in  the  large  door  opposite  ;  or 
peradventure  with  the  dominie  himself. 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  225 

Doctor  Knipperhausen  was  a  native  of  the  Pa- 
latinate  in  Germany  ;  from  whence,  in  company 
with  many  of  his  countrymen,  he  had  taken  re 
fuge  in  England,  on  account  of  religious  perse 
cution.  He  was  one  of  nearly  three  thousand 
Palatines  who  came  over  from  England  in  1710, 
under  the  protection  of  Governor  Hunter.  Where 
the  doctor  had  studied ;  how  he  had  acquired 
his  medical  knowledge  ;  and  where  he  had  re 
ceived  his  diploma,  it  is  hard  at  present  to  say, 
for  nobody  knew  at  the  time ;  yet  it  is  certain 
that  his  profound  skill  and  abstruse  knowledge 
were  the  talk  and  wonder  of  the  common  peo 
ple,  far  and  near.  His  practice  was  totally  differ 
ent  from  that  of  any  other  physician,  consisting 
in  mysterious  compounds  known  only  to  him 
self;  in  the  preparing  and  administering  of 
which,  it  was  said,  he  always  consulted  the  stars. 
So  high  an  opinion  was  entertained  of  his  skill, 
particularly  by  the  German  and  Dutch  inhabit 
ants,  that  they  always  resorted  to  him  in  despe 
rate  cases.  He  was  one  of  those  infallible  doc 
tors  that  are  always  effecting  sudden  and  surpri- 

VOL.  ii.  29 


226  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

sing  cures,  when  the  patient  has  been  given  up 
by  all  the  regular  physicians ;  unless,  as  is 
shrewdly  observed,  the  case  has  been  left  too 
long  before  it  was  put  into  his  hands.  The 
doctor's  library  was  the  talk  and  marvel  of  the 
neighbourhood,  I  might  almost  say  of  the  entire 
burgh.  The  good  people  looked  with  reverence 
at  a  man  that  had  read  three  whole  shelves  full 
of  books,  and  some  of  them  too  as  large  as  a 
family  bible.  There  were  many  disputes  among 
the  members  of  the  little  Lutheran  church,  as 
to  which  was  the  wisest  man,  the  doctor  or  the 
dominie  ;  some  of  his  admirers  even  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  he  knew  more  than  the  governor 
himself — in  a  word,  it  was  thought  that  there 
was  no  end  to  his  knowledge  ! 

.No  sooner  was  Dolph  received  into  the  doc 
tor's  family  than  he  was  put  in  possession  of  the 
lodgings  of  his  predecessor.  It  was  a  garret 
room  of  a  steep  roofed  Dutch  house,  where  the 
rain  pattered  on  the  shingles,  and  the  lightning 
gleamed,  arid  the  wind  piped  through  the  cran 
nies  in  stormy  weather,  and  where  whole  troops 


DOLPH  HEYLIGEIU  227 

of  hungry  rats  galloped  about,  like  Don  Cos 
sacks  in  defiance  of  traps  and  ratsbane. 
.  He  was  soon  up  to  his  ears  in  medical  studies, 
being  employed,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  in 
rolling  pills,  filtering  tinctures,  or  pounding  the 
pestle  and  mortar  in  one  corner  of  the  labora 
tory  ;  while  the  doctor  would  take  his  seat  in 
another  corner,  when  he  had  nothing  else  to  do, 
or  expected  visiters,  and  arrayed  in  his  morning 
gown  and  velvet  cap,  would  pore  over  the  con 
tents  of  some  folio  volume.  It  is  true  that  the 
regular  thumping  of  Dolph's  pestle,  or,  perhaps, 
the  drowsy  buzzing  of  the  summer  flies  would 
now  and  then  lull  the  little  man  into  a  slumber ; 
but  then  his  spectacles  were  always  wide  awake, 
and  studiously  regarding  the  book. 

There  was  another  personage  in  the  house, 
however,  to  whom  Dolph  was  obliged  to  pay 
allegiance.  Though  a  bachelor,  and  a  man  of 
such  great  dignity  and  importance,  yet  the  doc 
tor  was,  like  many  other  wise  men,  subject  to 
petticoat  goverment.  He  was  completely  under 
the  sway  of  his  housekeeper,  a  spare,  busy, 


228  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

fretting  housewife,  in  a  little,  round,  quilted 
German  cap,  with  a  huge  bunch  of  keys  jing 
ling  at  the  girdle  of  an  exceedingly  long  waist. 
Fran  Use  (or  Frow  Ilsy  as  it  was  pronounced) 
had  accompanied  him  in  his  various  migrations, 
from  Germany  to  England,  and  from  England 
to  the  province ;  managing  his  establishment 
and  himself  too ;  ruling  him,  it  is  true,  with  a 
gentle  hand  ;  but  carrying  a  high  hand  with  all 
the  world  beside.  How  she  had  acquired  such 
ascendancy  I  do  not  pretend  to  say.  People, 
it  is  true,  did  talk — but  have  not  people  been 
prone  to  talk  ever  since  the  world  began  ?  Who 
can  tell  how  women  generally  contrive  to  get 
the  upper  hand  ?  A  husband,  it  is  true,  may 
now  and  then  be  master  in  his  own  house ;  but 
who  ever  knew  a  bachelor  that  was  not  mana 
ged  by  his  housekeeper  ? 

Indeed,  Frau  Ilsy's  power  was  not  confined 
to  the  doctor's  household.  She  was  one  of 
those  prying  gossips  that  know  every  one's  bu 
siness  better  than  they  do  themselves  ;  and 
whose  all-seeing  eyes  and  all-telling  tongues 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  229 

are  terrors  throughout  a  neighbourhood.  No 
thing  of  any  moment  transpired  m  the  world  of 
scandal  of  this  little  burgh  but  it  was  kiiown 
to  Frau  Ilsy.  She  had  her  crew  of  cronies 
that  were  perpetually  hurrying  to  her  little  par 
lour,  with  some  precious  bit  of  news ;  nay,  she 
would  sometimes  discuss  a  whole  volume  of  se 
cret  history,  as  she  held  the  street  door  ajar,  and 
gossiped  with  one  of  those  garrulous  crones, 
in  the  very  teeth  of  a  December  blast. 

Between  the  doctor  and  the  housekeeper  it 
may  easily  be  supposed  that  Dolph  had  a  busy 
life  of  it.  As  Frau  f Isy  kept  the  keys,  and  lite 
rally  ruled  the  roast,  it  was  starvation  to  offend 
her,  though  he  found  the  study  of  her  temper 
more  perplexing  even  than  that  of  medicine. 
When  not  busy  in  the  laboratory  she  kept  him 
running  hither  and  thither  on  her  own  errands  ; 
and  on  Sundays  he  was  obliged  to  accompany 
her  to  and  from  church,  and  carry  her  bible ;  and 
many  a  time  has  the  poor  varlet  stood  shivering 
and  blowing  his  fingers,  or  holding  his  frost-bit 
ten  nose  in  the  church  yard,  while  Frau  Ilsy 


230  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

and  her  cronies  were  huddled  together,  wag 
ging  their  heads  and  tearing  some  unlucky  cha 
racter  to  pieces. 

With  alLhis  advantages,  however,  Dolph  made 
but  very  slow  progress  in  his  art.  This  was  no 
fault  of  the  doctor's,  certainly,  for  he  took  un 
wearied  pains  with  the  lad  ;  keeping  him  close 
to  the  pestle  and  mortar,  or  on  the  trot  about 
town  with  phials  and  pill-boxes  ;  and  if  he  ever 
flagged  in  his  industry,  which  he  was  rather  apt 
to  do,  the  doctor  would  fly  into  a  passion,  and 
ask  him  if  he  ever  expected  to  learn  his  profession, 
unless  he  applied  himself  closer  to  the  study. 
The  fact  is,  he  still  retained  the  fondness  for 
sport  and  mischief  that  had  marked  his  child 
hood;  the  habit  indeed  strengthened  with  his 
years,  and  gained  force  from  being  thwarted  and 
constrained.  He  daily  grew  more  and  more  un- 
tractable  ;  and  lost  favour  in  the  eyes  both  of  the 
doctor  and  the  housekeeper. 

In  the  mean  time  the  doctor  went  on,  waxing 
wealthy  and  renowned.  He  was  famous  for  his 
skill  in  managing  cases  not  laid  down  in  the 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  231 

books.  He  had  cured  several  old  women  and 
young  girls  of  witchcraft ;  a  terrible  complaint 
nearly  as  prevalent  in  the  province  in  those  days 
as  hydrophobia  is  at  present ;  he  had  even  restor 
ed  one  strapping  country  girl  to  perfect  health 
who  had  gone  so  far  as  to  vomit  crooked  pins 
and  needles ;  which  is  considered  a  desperate 
stage  of  the  malady.  It  was  whispered,  also, 
that  he  was  possessed  of  the  art  of  preparing 
love  ponders ;  and  many  applications  had  he  in 
consequence  from  love -sick  patients  of  both 
sexes ;  but  all  these  cases  formed  the  mysterious 
part  of  his  practice,  in  which,  according  to  the 
cant  phrase,  "  secrecy  and  honour  might  be 
depended  on."  Dolph  therefore  was  obliged  to 
turn  out  of  the  study  when  such  consultations 
occurred,  though  it  is  said  he  learnt  more  of  the 
secrets  of  the  art  at  the  key  hole,  than  by  all  the 
rest  of  his  studies  put  together. 

As  the  doctor  increased  in  wealth  he  began  to 
extend  his  possessions,  and  to  look  forward,  like 
other  great  men,  to  the  time  when  he  should  re 
tire  to  the  repose  of  a  country  seat.  For  this 


DOLPH  HEYLIGEK. 


purpose  he  had  purchased  a  farm,  or  as  the 
Dutch  settlers  called  it,  a  Bowerie,  a  few  miles 
from  town.  It  had  been  the  residence  of  a  weal 
thy  family  that  had  returned  some"  time  since  to 
Holland.  A  large  mansion  house  stood  in  the 
centre  of  it,  very  much  out  of  repair,  and  which, 
in  consequence  of  certain  reports,  had  received 
the  appellation  of  the  Haunted  House.  Either 
from  these  reports,  or  from  its  actual  dreariness, 
the  doctor  had  found  it  impossible  to  get  a  ten 
ant;  and,  that  the  place  might  not  fall  to  ruin 
before  he  could  reside  in  it  himself,  he  had  placed 
a  country  boor  with  his  family,  in  one  wing, 
with  the  privilege  of  cultivating  the  farm  on 
shares. 

The  doctor  now  felt  all  the  dignity  of  a  land 
holder  rising  within  him.  He  had  a  little  of  the 
German  pride  of  territory  in  his  composition, 
and  almost  looked  upon  himself  as  owner  of  a 
principality.  He  began  to  complain  of  the  fa 
tigue  of  business,  and  was  fond  of  riding  out 
"  to  look  at  his  estate  "  His  little  expeditions 
to  his  lands  were  attended  with  a  bustle  and  pa- 


? 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  233 


rade  that  created  a  sensation  throughout  the 
neighbourhood.  His  wall-eyed  horse  stood  stamp 
ing  and  whisking  off  the  flies  for  a  full  hour  be 
fore  the  house.  Then  the  doctor's  saddle  bags 
would  be  brought  out  and  adjusted ;  then  after 
a  little  while  his  cloak  would  be  rolled  up  and 
strapped  to  the  saddle  ;  then  his  umbrella  would 
be  buckled  to  the  cloak ;  while,  in  the  mean 
time,  a  group  of  ragged  boys,  that  observant 
class  of  beings,  would  gather  before  the  door. 
At  length  the  doctor  would  issue  forth  in  a  pair 
of  jack  boots  that  reached  above  his  knees,  and 
a  cocked  hat  flapped  down  in  front.  As  he  was 
a  short  fat  man  he  took  some  time  to  mount 
into  the  saddle,  and  when  there,  he  took  some 
time  to  have  the  saddle  and  stirrups  properly 
adjusted  ;  enjoying  the  wonder  and  admiration 
of  the  urchin  crowd.  Even  after  he  had  set 
off,  he  would  pause  in  the  middle  of  the  street; 
or  trot  back  two  or  three  times  to  give  some 
parting  orders,  which  were  answered  by  the 
housekeeper  from  the  door,  or  Dolph  from  the 
study,  or  the  black  cook  from  the  cellar,  or  the 
VOL*  n.  30 


•* 


234  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

chambermaid  from  the  garret  window,  and 
there  were  generally  some  last  words  bawled 
after  him,  just  as  he  was  turning  the  corner. 
The  whole  neighbourhood  would  be  aroused 
by  this  pomp  and  circumstance.  The  cobbler 
would  leave  his  last ;  the  barber  would  thrust 
out  his  frizzed  head,  with  a  comb  sticking  in  it; 
a  knot  would  collect  at  the  grocer's  door ;  and 
the  word  would  be  buzzed,  from  one  end  of  the 
street  to  the  other,  "  the  doctor's  riding  out  to 
his  country  seat !" 

These  were  golden  moments  for  Dolph.  No 
sooner  was  the  doctor  out  of  sight,  than  pestle 
and  mortar  were  abandoned  ;  the  laboratory  was 
left  to  take  care  of  itself;  and  the  student  was 
off  on  some  madcap  frolick.  Indeed,  it  must  be 
confessed,  the  youngster,  as  he  grew  up,  seemed 
in  a  fair  way  to  fulfil  the  prediction  of  the  old 
claret  coloured  gentleman.  He  was  the  ring 
leader  of  all  holyday  sports  and  midnight  gam 
bols  ;  ready  for  all  kinds  of  mischievous  pranks, 
and  hare-brained  adventure.  There  is  nothing 
so  troublesome  as  a  hero  on  a  small  scale ;  or 


OOLPH  HEYLIGER.  235 

rather  a  hero  in  a  small  town.  Dolph  soon  be 
came  the  abhorrence  of  all  drowsy,  housekeep 
ing  old  citizens,  who  hated  noise,  and  had  no  re 
lish  for  waggery.  The  good  dames,  too,  con 
sidered  him  as  little  better  than  a  reprobate ; 
gathered  their  daughters  under  their  wings 
whenever  he  approached,  and  pointed  him  out 
as  a  warning  to  their  sons.  No  one  seemed  to 
hold  him  in  much  regard,  excepting  the  wild 
striplings  of  the  place  who  were  captivated  by 
his  open-hearted  daring  manners ;  and  the  ne 
groes,  who  always  look  upon  every  idle,  do-no 
thing  youngster,  as  a  kind  of  gentleman.  Even 
the  good  Peter  de  Groodt,  who  had  considered 
himself  a  kind  of  patron  of  the  lad,  began  to 
despair  of  him  ;  and  would  shake  his  head  du 
biously,  as  he  listened  to  a  long  complaint  of  the 
housekeeper's,  and  sipped  a  glass  of  her  rasp 
berry  brandy. 

Still,  his  mother  was  not  to  be  wearied  out 
of  her  affection  by  all  the  waywardness  of  her 
boy,  nor  disheartened  by  the  stories  of  his  mis 
deeds  with  which  her  good  friends  were  conti- 


236  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

nually  regaling  her.  She  had,  it  is  true,  very 
little  of  the  pleasure  which  rich  people  enjoy, 
in  always  hearing  their  children  praised;  but. 
she  considered  all  this  ill  will  as  a  kind  of  per 
secution  which  he  suffered,  and  she  liked  him 
the  better  on  that  account.  She  saw  him  grow 
ing  up  a  fine,  tall,  good  looking  youngster,  and 
she  looked  at  him  with  the  secret  pride  of  a  mo 
ther's  heart.  It  was  her  great  desire  that  Dolph 
should  appear  like  a  gentleman,  and  all  the  mo 
ney  she  could  save  went  towards  helping  out 
his  pocket  and  his  wardrobe.  She  would  look 
out  of  the  window  after  him  as  he  sallied  forth 
in  his  best,  and  her  heart  would  yearn  with  de 
light  ;  and  once,  when  Peter  de  Groodt,  struck 
with  the  youngster's  gallant  appearance  on  a 
bright  Sunday  morning,  observed,  "  well,  after 
all,  Dolph  does  grow  a  comely  fellow" — the 
tear  of  pride  started  into  the  mother's  eye ;  "  ah, 
neighbour  !  neighbour  !"  exclaimed  she,  "  they 
may  say  what  they  please,  poor  Dolph  will  yet 
hold  up  his  head  with  the  best  of  them !" 
Dolph  Heyliger  had  now  nearly  attained  his 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  237 

one-and-twentieth  year,  and  the  term  of  his 
medical  studies  was  just  expiring;  yet  it  must 
be  confessed  that  he  knew  little  more  of  the  pro 
fession  than  when  he  first  entered  the  doctor's 
doors.  This,  however,  could  not  be  from  any 
want  of  quickness  of  parts,  for  he  showed  ama 
zing  aptness  in  mastering  other  branches  of 
knowledge  which  he  could  only  have  studied  at 
intervals.  He  was,  for  instance,  a  sure  marks 
man,  and  won  all  the  geese  and  turkeys  at  Christ 
mas  holydays.  He  was  a  bold  rider ;  he  was 
famous  for  leaping  and  wrestling  ;  he  played  to 
lerably  on  the  fiddle  ;  could  swim  like  a  fish, 
and  was  the  best  hand  in  the  whole  place  at 
fives  and  ninepins. 

All  these  accomplishments,  however,  procured 
him  no  favour  in  the  eyes  of  the  doctor,  who 
grew  more  and  more  crabbed  and  intolerant  the 
nearer  the  term  of  apprenticeship  approached. 
Frau  Ilsy,  too,  was  forever  finding  some  occa 
sion  to  raise  a  windy  tempest  about  his  ears ; 
and  seldom  encountered  him  about  the  house 
without  a  clatter  of  the  tongue ;  so  that,  at  length, 


238  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

the  jingling  of  her  keys  as  she  approached  was 
to  Dolph  like  the  ringing  of  the  prompter's  bell, 
that  gives  notice  of  a  theatrical  thunder  storm. 
Nothing  but  the  infinite  good  humour  of  the 
heedless  youngster  enabled  him  to  bear  all  this 
domestic  tyranny  without  open  rebellion.  It 
was  evident  that  the  doctor  and  his  housekeeper 
were  preparing  to  beat  the  poor  youth  out  of  the 
nest  the  moment  his  term  should  have  expired ; 
a  short-hand  mode  which  the  doctor  had  of  pro 
viding  for  useless  disciples. 

Indeed,  the  little  man  had  been  rendered  more 
than  usually  irritable  lately,  in  consequence  of 
various  cares  and  vexations  which  his  country 
estate  had  brought  upon  him.  The  doctor  had 
been  repeatedly  annoyed  by  the  rumours  and 
tales  which  prevailed  concerning  the  old  man 
sion,  and  found  it  difficult  to  prevail  even  upon 
the  countryman  and  his  family  to  remain  there 
rent  free.  Every  time  he  rode  out  to  the  farm 
he  was  teased  by  some  fresh  complaint  of  strange 
noises  and  fearful  sights  with  which  the  tenants 
were  disturbed  at  night ;  and  the  doctor  would 


DOLPH  MEYLIGER.  239 

come  home  fretting  arid  fuming,  and  vent  his 
spleen  upon  the  whole  household..  It  was,  in 
deed,  a  sore  grievance,  that  affected  him  both  in 
pride  and  purse.  He  was  threatened  with  an 
absolute  loss  of  the  profits  of  his  property  ;  and 
then  what  a  blow  to  his  territorial  consequence, 
to  be  the  landlord  of  a  haunted  house.  It  was 
observed,  however,  that  with  all  his  vexation, 
the  doctor  never  proposed  to  sleep  in  the  house 
himself;  nay,  he  could  never  be  prevailed  upon 
to  remain  on  the  premises  after  dark ;  but  made 
the  best  of  his  way  for  town  as  soon  as  the  bats 
began  to  flit  about  in  the  twilight.  The  fact 
was,  the  doctor  was  a  secret  believer  in  ghosts, 
having  passed  the  early  part  of  his  life  in  a  coun 
try  where  they  particularly  abound  ;  and,  in 
deed,  the  story  went,  that  when  a  boy  he  had 
once  seen  the  Devil  upon  the  Hartz  Mountains 
in  Germany. 

At  length  the  doctor's  vexations  on  this  head 
were  brought  to  a  crisis.  One  morning  as  he* 
sat  dozing  over  a  volume  in  his  study,  he  was 


240  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

suddenly  startled  from  his  slumbers  by  the  bus 
tling  in  of  the  housekeeper. 

"  Here's  a  fine  to-do !"  cried  she,  as  she  en 
tered  the  room.  "  Here's  Claus  Hopper  come 
in  bag  and  baggage  from  the  farm,  and  swears 
he'll  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it.  The 
whole  family  have  been  frightened  out  of  their 
wits ;  for  there's  such  racketing  and  rummaging 
about  the  old  house  that  they  can't  sleep  quiet 
in  their  beds." 

"  Donner  und  Blitzen  !"  cried  the  doctor, 
impatiently,  "  will  they  never  have  done  chat 
tering  about  that  house  ?  What  a  pack  of  fools 
to  let  a  few  hungry  rats  and  mice  frighten  them 
out  of  good  quarters." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  the  housekeeper,  wagging 
her  head  knowingly,  and  piqued  at  having  a 
good  ghost  story  doubted,  "  there's  more  in  it 
than  rats  and  mice.  All  the  neighbourhood  talks 
about  the  house ;  and  then  such  sights  have 
been  seen  in  it ! — Peter  de  Groodt  tells  me  that 
the  family  that  sold  you  the  house  and  went  to 
Holland  dropped  several  strange  hints  about  it, 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  241 

and  said  '  they  wished  you  joy  of  your  bargain  ;' 
and  you  know  yourself  there's  no  getting  any 
family  to  live  in  it." 

"  Peter  de  Groodt's  a  ninny,  an  old  woman," 
said  the  doctor  peevishly  ;  "  I'll  warrant  he's 
been  filling  these  people's  heads  full  of  stories. 
It's  just  like  his  nonsense  about  the  ghost  that 
haunted  the  church  belfry,  as  an  excuse  for  not 
ringing  the  bell  that  cold  night  when  Hermanus 
Brinkerhoff's  house  was  on  fire. — Send  Clans 
to  me." 

Claus  Hopper  now  made  his  appearance.  A 
simple  country  lout,  full  of  awe  at  finding  him 
self  in  the  very  study  of  Dr.  Knipperhausen,  and 
too  much  embarrassed  to  enter  into  much  detail 
of  the  matters  that  had  caused  his  alarm.  He 
stood  twirling  his  hat  in  one  hand ;  resting  some 
times  on  one  leg,  sometimes  on  the  other ;  look 
ing  occasionally  at  the  doctor,  and  now  and  then 
stealing  a  fearful  glance  at  the  death's  head  that 
seemed  ogling  him  from  the  top  of  the  clothes 
press. 

The  doctor  tried  every  means  to  persuade  him 

VOL.  II.  31 


242  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

to  return  to  the  farm,  but  all  in  vain.  He  main 
tained  a  dogged  determination  on  the  subject ; 
and  at  the  close  of  every  argument  or  solicitation, 
would  make  the  same  brief,  inflexible  reply. 
"Ich  kan  nicht,  mynheer." 

The  doctor  was  a  •'  little  pot  and  soon  hot," 
his  patience  was  exhausted  by  these  continual 
vexations  about  his  estate.  The  stuborn  refu 
sal  of  Claus  Hopper  seemed  to  him  like  flat 
rebellion  ;  his  temper  suddenly  boiled  over,  and 
Claus  was  glad  to  make  a  rapid  retreat  to  es 
cape  scalding. 

When  the  bumpkin  got  to  the  housekeeper's 
room  he  found  Peter  de  Groodt  and  several  other 
true  believers  ready  to  receive  him.  Here  he 
indemnified  himself  for  the  restraint  he  had 
suffered  in  the  study,  and  opened  a  budget  of 
stories  about  the  Haunted  House  that  astonished 
all  his  hearers.  The  housekeeper  believed  them 
all,  if  it  was  only  to  spite  the  doctor,  for  having 
received  her  intelligence  so  uncourteously.  Peter 
de  Groodt  matched  them  with  many  a  wonderful 
legend  of  the  times  of  the  Dutch  dynasty ;  and 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  243 

of  the  Devil's  stepping  stones  ;  and  of  the  pirate 
that  was  l«anged  at  Gibbet  Island,  and  continued 
to  swing  there  at  night,  long  after  the  gallows 
was  taken  down  ;  and  of  the  ghost  of  the  un 
fortunate  German,  Leisler,  who  was  hanged  for 
treason ;  which  haunted  the  old  fort  and  the  go 
vernment  house.  The  gossiping  knot  dispersed, 
each  charged  with  direful  intelligence.  The 
sexton  disburdened  himself  at  a  vestry  meeting 
that  was  held  that  very  day ;  and  the  black 
ccok  forsook  her  kitchen,  and  spent  half  of  the 
day  at  the  street  pump,  that  gossiping  place  of 
servants,  dealing  forth  the  news  to  all  that  came 
for  water.  In  a  little  while  the  whole  town  was 
in  a  buzz  with  tales  about  the  Haunted  House. 
Some  said  that  Claus  Hopper  had  seen  the 
Devil ;  while  others  hinted  that  the  house  was 
haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  some  of  the  patients, 
which  the  doctor  had  physicked  out  of  the 
world  ;  and  that  was  the  reason  why  he  did  not 
venture  to  live  in  it  himself. 

All  this  put  the  little  doctor  in  a  terrible  fume. 
He   threatened   vengeance   on    any   one    who 


244  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

should  affect  the  value  of  his  property  by  ex 
citing  popular  prejudices.  He  complained  loud- 
y  of  thus  being  in  a  manner  dispossessed  of  his 
territories  by  mere  bugbears ;  but  he  secretly 
determined  to  have  the  house  exorcised  by  the 
dominie. 

Great  was  his  relief,  therefore,  when,  in  the 
midst  of  his  perplexities,  Dolph  stepped  forward 
and  undertook  to  garrison  the  haunted  house. 
The  youngster  had  been  listening  to  all  the  sto 
nes  of  Claus  Hopper,  and  Peter  de  Groodt ;  he 
was  fond  of  adventure ;  he  loved  the  marvel 
lous  ;  and  his  imagination  had  become  quite  ex 
cited  by  these  tales  of  wonder.  Besides,  he  had 
led  such  an  uncomfortable  life  at  the  doctor's, 
being  subjected  to  the  intolerable  thraldom  of 
early  hours,  that  he  was  delighted  at  the  prospect 
of  having  a  house  to  himself,  even  though  it 
should  be  a  haunted  one.  His  offer  was  eagerly 
accepted,  and  it  was  determined  that  he  should 
mount  guard  that  very  night.  His  only  stipula 
tion  was,  that  the  enterprize  should  be  kept  se- 
eret  from  his  mother  ;  for  he  knew  the  poor  soul 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  245 

would  not  sleep  a  wink  if  she  knew  that  her  son 
was  waging  war  with  the  powers  of  darkness. 

When  night  came  on  he  set  out  on  this  peri 
lous  expedition.  The  old  black  cook,  his  only 
friend  in  the  household,  had  provided  him  with 
a  little  mess  for  supper,  and  a  rushlight ;  and 
she  tied  round  his  neck  an  amulet  given  her 
by  an  African  conjuror  as  a  charm  against  evil 
spirits.  Dolph  was  escorted  on  his  way  by  the 
doctor  and  Peter  de  Groodt,  who  had  agreed  to 
accompany  him  to  the  house,  and  to  see  him  safe 
lodged. 

The  night  was  overcast,  and  it  was  very  dark 
when  they  arrived  at  the  grounds  which  sur 
rounded  the  mansion.  The  sexton  led  the  way 
with  a  lanthorn.  As  they  walked  along  the  ave 
nue  of  acacias,  the  fitful  light,  catching  from 
bush  to  bush,  and  tree  to  tree,  often  startled  the 
doughty  Peter,  and  made  him  fall  back  upon  his 
followers ;  and  the  doctor  grappled  still  closer 
hold  of  Dolph's  arm,  observing  that  the  ground 
was  very  slippery  and  uneven.  At  one  time  they 
were  nearly  put  to  total  rout  by  a  bat  which 


C246  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

came  flitting  about  the  lanthorn  ;  and  the  notes 
of  the  insects  from  the  trees,  and  the  frogs  from 
a  neighbouring  pond,  formed  a  most  drowsy  and 
doleful  concert. 

The  front  door  of  the  mansion  opened  with  a 
grating  sound  that  made  the  doctor  turn  pale. 
They  entered  a  tolerably  large  hall,  such  as  is 
common  in  American  country  houses,  to  serve 
for  sitting  rooms  in  warm  weather.  From  hence 
they  went  up  a  wide  staircase,  that  groaned  and 
creaked  as  they  trod,  every  step  making  its  par 
ticular  note,  like  the  key  of  a  harpsichord.  This 
led  to  another  hall  on  the  second  story,  from 
whence  they  entered  the  room  where  Dolph  was 
to  sleep.  It  was  large,  and  scantily  furnished. 
The  shutters  were  closed  ;  but  as  they  were 
much  shattered,  there  was  not  want  of  a  circu 
lation  of  air.  It  appeared  to  have  been  that  sa 
cred  chamber  known  among  Dutch  housewives 
by  the  name  of  "  the  best  bed  room ;"  which  is 
the  best  furnished,  but  in  which  scarce  any  body 
is  ever  permitted  to  sleep.  Its  splendour,  how 
ever,  was  all  at  an  end.  A  few  broken  articles 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  247 

of  furniture  were  about  the  walls,  and  in  the 
centre  of  the  room  was  a  heavy  deal  table,  and 
a  large  arm  chair;  both  which  had  the  look  of 
being  coeval  with  the  mansion.  The  fireplace 
was  wide,  and  had  been  faced  with  Dutch  tiles, 
representing  scripture  stories ;  but  several  of 
them  had  fallen  out  of  their  places,  and  lay  shat 
tered  about  the  hearth. 

The  sexton  had  lit  the  rushlight,  and  the  doc 
tor,  looking  fearfully  about  the  room,  was  just 
exhorting  Dolph  to  be  of  good  cheer,  and  to 
pluck  up  a  stout  heart,  when  a  noise  in  the  chim 
ney  like  voices  and  struggling,  struck  a  sud 
den  panic  into  the  sexton.  He  took  to  his 
heels,  with  the  lanthorn,  the  doctor  followed 
hard  after  him  ;  the  stairs  groaned  and  whistled 
as  they  hurried  down,  increasing  their  agitation 
and  speed  by  its  noises.  The  front  door  slammed 
after  them,  and  Dolph  heard  them  scrambling 
down  the  avenue,  till  the  sound  of  their  feet 
was  lost  in  the  distance.  That  he  did  not  join  in 
this  precipitate  retreat,  might  have  been  owing 
to  his  possessing  a  little  more  courage  than  his 


248  DOLPH  HEYL1GER. 

companions ;  or,  perhaps,  that  he  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  cause  of  their  dismay  in  a  nest 
of  chimney  swallows  that  came  tumbling  down 
into  the  fireplace. 

Being  now  left  to  himself,  he  secured  the  front 
door  by  a  strong  bolt  and  bar,  and  having  seen 
that  the  other  entrances  were  fastened,  he  return 
ed  to  his  desolate  chamber.  Having  made  his 
supper  from  the  basket  which  the  good  old  cook 
had  provided,  he  locked  the  chamber  door  and 
retired  to  rest  on  a  mattress  in  one  corner.  The 
night  was  calm  and  still,  and  nothing  broke 
upon  the  profound  quiet  but  the  lonely  chirping 
of  a  cricket  from  the  chimney  of  a  distant  cham 
ber.  The  rushlight,  which  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  deal  table,  shed  a  feeble  yellow  ray,  dim 
ly  illumining  the  chamber,  and  making  uncouth 
shapes  and  shadows  on  the  walls,  from  the  clothes 
which  Dolph  had  thrown  over  a  chair. 

With  all  his  boldness  of  heart  there  was  some 
thing  subduing  in  this  desolate  scene ;  and  he 
felt  his  spirits  flag  within  him,  as  he  lay  on  his 
hard  bed  and  gazed  about  the  room.  He  was 


DOLPH  HEYLIGEH.  249 

turning  over  in  his  mind  his  idle  habits,  his 
doubtful  prospects,  and  now  and  then  heaving 
a  heavy  sigh  as  he  thought  on  his  poor  old  mo 
ther  ;  for  there  is  nothing  like  the  silence  and 
loneliness  of  night  to  bring  dark  shadows  over 
the  brightest  mind.  By  and  bye  he  thought  he 
heard  a  sound  as  if  some  one  was  walking  below 
stairs.  He  listened,  and  distinctly  heard  a  step 
on  the  great  staircase.  It  approached  solemnly 
and  slowly,  tramp — tramp — tramp!  It  was 
evidently  the  tread  of  some  heavy  personage  ; 
and  yet  how  could  he  have  got  into  the  house 
without  making  a  noise  ?  He  had  examined  all 
the  fastenings,  and  was  certain  that  every  en 
trance  was  secured.  Still  the  steps  advanced, 
tramp — tramp — tramp!  It  was  evident  that 
the  person  approaching  could  not  be  a  robber ; 
the  step  was  too  loud  and  deliberate  ;  a  robber's 
would  be  either  stealthy  or  precipitate.  And 
now  the  footsteps  had  ascended  the  staircase  ; 
they  were  slowly  advancing  along  the  passage, 
resounding  through  the  silent  and  empty  apart 
ments.  The  very  cricket  had  ceased  its  melan- 
VOL.  ii.  32 


250  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

choly  note,  and  nothing  interrupted  their  awful 
distinctness.  The  door,  which  had  been  locked 
on  the  inside,  slowly  swung  open  as  if  self  moved. 
The1  footsteps  entered  the  room  :  but  no  one 
was  to  be  seen.  They  passed  slowly  and  audi 
bly  across  it,  tramp — tramp — tramp !  but  what 
ever  made  the  sound  was  invisible.  Dolph  rub 
bed  his  eves,  and  stared  about  him  ;  he  could  see 
to  every  part  of  the  dimly  lighted  chamber ;  all 
was  vacant ;  yet  still  he  heard  these  mysterious 
footsteps,  solemnly  walking  about  the  chamber. 
They  ceased,  and  all  was  dead  silence.  There 
was  something  more  appalling  in  this  invisible 
visitation,  than  there  would  have  been  in  any 
thing  that  addressed  itself  to  the  eyesight.  It 
was  awfully  vague  and  indefinite.  He  felt  his 
heart  beat  hard  against  his  ribs ;  a  cold  sweat 
broke  out  upon  his  forehead  ;  he  lay  for  some 
time  in  a  state  of  violent  agitation.  Nothing, 
however,  occurred  to  increase  his  alarm.  His 
light  gradually  burnt  down  into  the  socket,  and 
he  felt  asleep.  When  he  awoke  it  was  broad 
daylight.  The  sun  was  peering  through  the 


DOLPH  HEYLIQER. 

cracks  of  the  window  shutters,  and  the  birds 
were  merrily  singing  about  the  house.  The 
bright  cheery  day  soon  put  to  flight  all  the  ter 
rors  of  the  preceding  night.  Dolph  laughed,  or 
rather  tried  to  laugh,  at  all  that  had  passed  ;  and 
endeavoured  to  persuade  himself  that  it  was  a 
mere  freak  of  the  imagination,  conjured  up  by 
the  stories  he  had  heard  ;  but  he  was  a  little 
puzzled  to  find  the  door  of  his  room  locked  on 
the  inside,  notwithstanding  that  he  had  positive 
ly  seen  it  swing  open  as  the  footsteps  entered. 
He  returned  to  town  in  a  state  of  considerable 
perplexity;  but  he  determined  to  say  nothing  on 
the  subject  until  his  doubts  were  either  confirm 
ed  or  removed  by  another  night's  watching. 
His  silence  was  a  grievous  disappointment  to  the 
gossips  who  had  gathered  at  the  doctor's  man 
sion.  They  had  prepared  their  minds  to  hear 
direful  tales,  and  they  were  almost  in  a  rage  at 
being  assured  that  he  had  nothing  to  relate. 

The  next  night,  then,  Dolph  repeated  his 
vigil.  He  now  entered  the  house  with  some 
trepidation.  He  was  particular  in  examining 


252  JDOLPH  HEYLIGEK- 

the  fastenings  of  all  the  doors,  and  securing 
them  well.  He  locked  the  door  of  his  cham 
ber,  and  placed  a  chair  upon  it ;  then  having 
despatched  his  supper  he  threw  himself  on  his 
mattress  and  endeavoured  to  sleep.  It  was  all 
in  vain.  A  thousand  crowding  fancies  kept  him 
waking.  The  time  slowly  dragged  on  as  if 
minutes  were  spinning  themselves  out  into 
hours.  As  the  night  advanced  he  grew  more 
and  more  nervous,  and  he  almost  started  from 
his  couch  when  he  heard  the  mysterious  foot 
step  again  on  the  staircase.  Up  it  came,  as 
before,  solemnly  and  slowly,  tramp — tramp — 
tramp  !  It  approached  along  the  passage.  The 
door  again  swung  open,  as  if  there  had  been 
neither  lock  nor  impediment,  and  a  strange 
looking  figure  stalked  into  the  room.  It  w?as 
an  elderly  man,  large  and  robust,  clothed  in  the 
old  Flemish  fashion.  He  had  on  a  kind  of  short 
cloak,  with  a  garment  under  it,  belted  round 
the  waist.  A  pair  of  russet  boots,  very  large 
at  top,  and  standing  widely  from  his  legs.  He 
had  trunk  hose,  with  great  bunches  at  the 


BOLPH  HEYLIGER.  253 

knees.  His  hat  was  broad  and  slouched,  with 
a  feather  trailing  over  one  side.  His  iron -gray 
hair  hung  in  thick  masses  in  his  neck,  and  he 
had  a  short  grizzled  beard.  He  walked  slowly 
round  the  room,  as  if  examining  that  all  was 
safe ;  then,  hanging  his  hat  on  a  peg  beside  the 
door,  he  sat  down  in  the  elbow  chair,  and  lean 
ing  his  elbow  on  the  table,  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Dolph  with  an  unmoving  and  deadening  stare. 

Dolph  was  not  naturally  a  coward  ;  but  he 
had  been  brought  up  in  an  implicit  belief  in 
ghosts  and  goblins.  A  thousand  stories  came 
swarming  to  his  mind,  that  he  had  heard  about 
this  building ;  and,  as  he  looked  at  this  strange  per 
sonage,  with  his  uncouth  garb,  his  pale  visage, 
his  grizzly  beard,  and  his  fixed,  staring,  fish-like 
eye,  his  teeth  began  to  chatter,  his  hair  to  rise 
on  his  head,  and  a  cold  sweat  to  break  out  all 
over  his  body.  How  long  he  remained  in  this 
situation  he  could  not  tell,  for  he  was  like  one 
fascinated.  He  could  not  take  his  gaze  off 
from  the  spectre,  but  lay  staring  at  him,  with 
his  whole  intellect  absorbed  in  the  contempla- 


254  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

tion.  The  old  man  remained  seated  behind  the 
table,  without  stirring  or  turning  an  eye;  al 
ways  keeping  a  dead  stead)  glare  upon  Dolph. 
At  length  the  household  cock  from  a  neigh 
bouring  farm  clapped  his  wings,  and  gave  a  loud 
cheerful  crow  that  rung  over  the  fields.  At  the 
sound  the  old  man  slowly  rose  and  took  down 
his  hat  from  the  peg ;  the  door  opened,  and 
closed  after  him ;  he  was  heard  to  go  slowly 
down  the  staircase,  tramp — tramp — tramp  !  and 
when  he  had  got  to  the  bottom,  all  was  again 
silent.  Dolph  lay  and  listened  earnestly  ;  counted 
every  foot  fall ;  listened  and  listened  if  the  steps 
should  return ;  until,  exhausted  with  watching 
and  agitation,  he  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep. 

Daylight  again  brought  fresh  courage  and  as 
surance.  He  would  fain  have  considered  all  that 
had  passed  as  a  mere  dream.  Yet,  there  stood 
the  chair  in  which  the  unknown  had  seated  him 
self ;  there  was  the  table  on  which  he  had  lean 
ed  ;  there  was  the  peg  on  wrhich  he  had  hung  his 
hat ;  and  there  was  the  door  locked  precisely  as 
he  himself  locked  it,  with  the  chair  placed  against 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  255 

it.  He  hastened  down  stairs  and  examined  the 
doors  and  windows ;  all  were  exactly  in  the  same 
state  in  which  he  had  left  them,  and  there  was 
no  apparent  way  by  which  any  being  could  have 
entered  and  left  the  house  without  leaving  some 
trace  behind.  "  Pooh  !"  said  Dolph  to  himself, 
"  it  was  all  a  dream  ;"  but  it  would  not  do  ;  the 
more  he  endeavoured  to  shake  the  scene  off  from 
his  mind,  the  more  it  haunted  him. 

Though  he  persisted  in  a  strict  silence  as  to 
all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard,  yet  his  looks  be 
trayed  the  uncomfortable  night  that  he  had  pass 
ed.  It  was  evident  there  was  something  won 
derful  hidden  under  this  mysterious  reserve.  The 
doctor  took  him  into  the  study,  locked  the  door, 
and  sought  to  have  a  full  and  confidential  com 
munication  ;  but  he  could  get  nothing  out  of  him. 
Frau  Use  took  him  aside  into  the  pantry,  but  to 
as  little  purpose  ;  and  Peter  de  Groodt  held  him 
by  the  button  for  a  full  hour,  in  the  churchyard, 
the  very  place  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  a  ghost 
story  ;  but  came  off  not  a  whit  wiser  than  the 
rest.  It  is  always  the  case,  however,  that  one 


256  DOLPH  HEYLIGKK. 

truth  concealed,  makes  a  dozen  current  lies.  It 
is  like  a  guinea  locked  up  in  a  bank,  that  has  a 
dozen  paper  representatives.  Before  the  day 
was  over,  the  neighbourhood  was  full  of  reports. 
Some  said  that  Dolph  Heyliger  watched  in  the 
Haunted  House,  with  pistols  loaded  with  silver 
bullets  ;  others  that  he  had  had  a  long  talk  with  a 
spectre  without  a  head ;  others  that  Doctor 
Knipperhausen  and  the  sexton  had  been  hunted 
down  the  Bowery-Lane,  and  quite  into  town,  by 
a  legion  of  ghosts  of  their  old  customers.  Some 
shook  their  heads,  and  thought  it  a  shame  that 
the  doctor  should  put  Dolph  to  pass  the  night 
alone  in  that  dismal  house,  where  he  might  be 
spirited  away  no  one  knew  whither ;  while  others 
observed,  with  a  shrug,  that  if  the  devil  did  carry 
off  the  youngster,  it  would  but  be  taking  his 
own. 

These  rumours  at  length  reached  the  ears  of 
the  good  Dame  Heyliger,  and,  as  may  be  sup 
posed,  threw  her  into  a  terrible  alarm.  For  her 
son  to  have  exposed  himself  to  dangers  from  liv 
ing  foes,  would  have  been  nothing  so  dreadful 


DOLPH  HEYLfGER.  25"! 

in  her  eyes,  as  to  dare  alone  the  terrors  of  the 
Haunted  House.  She  hastened  to^the  doctor's, 
and  passed  a  great  part  of  the  day  in  attempting 
to  dissuade  Dolph  from  repeating  his  vigil ;  she 
told  him  a  score  of  tales  which  her  gossiping 
friends  had  just  related  to  her,  of  persons  who 
had  been  carried  off  when  watching  alone  in  old 
ruinous  houses.  It  was  all  to  no  effect.  Dolph's 
pride,  as  well  as  curiosity,  was  piqued.  He  en 
deavoured  to  calm  the  apprehensions  of  his  mo 
ther,  and  to  assure  her  that  there  was  no  truth 
in  all  the  rumours  she  had  heard*  She  looked 
at  him  dubiously,  and  shook  her  head ;  but  find 
ing  his  determination  was  not  to  be  shaken,  she 
brought  him  a  little  thick  Dutch  bible,  with  brass 
clasps,  to  take  with  him  as  a  sword  wherewith 
to  fight  the  powers  of  darkness ;  and  lest  that 
might  not  be  sufficient,  the  housekeeper  gave  him 
the  Heidelberg  Catechism  by  way  of  dagger. 

The  next  night,  therefore,  Dolph  took  up  his 
quarters,  for  the  third  time,  in  the  old  mansion. 
Whether  dream  or  not,  the  same  thing  was  re 
peated.  Towards  midnight,  when  every  thing 

VOL.  n.  83 


258  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

was  still,  the  same  sound  echoed  through  the 
empty  halls,  tramp — tramp — tramp !  The  stairs 
were  again  ascended ;  the  door   again  swung 
open ;  the  old  man  entered ;  walked  round  the 
room ;  hung  up  his  hat,  and  seated  himself  by 
the  table.     The  same  fear  and  trembling  came 
over  poor  Dolph,  though  not  in  so  violent  a  de 
gree.     He  lay  in  the  same  way,  motionless  and 
fascinated,  staring  at  the  figure;  which  regard 
ed  him  as  before,  with  a  dead,  fixed,  chilling 
gaze.     In  this  way  they  remained  for  a  long 
time,  till  by  degrees  Dolph's  courage  began  gra 
dually  to  revive.     Whether  alive  or  dead,  this 
being  had  certainly  some  object  in  his  visitation, 
and  he  recollected  to  have  heard  it  said,  that 
spirits  have  no  power  to   speak  until  they  are 
spoken  to.  Summoning  up  resolution,  therefore, 
and  making  two  or  three  attempts,  before  he 
could  get  his  parched  tongue  in  motion,  he  ad 
dressed  the  unknown  in  the  most  solemn  form 
of  adjuration  that  he  could  recollect,  and  de 
manded  to  know  what  was  the  motive  of  his 
visit. 


DOLPH  HEYLIfiER.  259 

No  sooner  had  he  finished  than  the  old  man 
rose  and  took  down  his  hat ;  the  door  opened,  and 
he  went  out,  looking  back  upon  Dolph  just  as 
he  crossed  the  threshold,  as  if  expecting  him  to 
follow.     The  youngster  did  not  hesitate  an  in 
stant.     He  took  the  candle  in  his  hand  and  the 
bible  under  his  arm,  and  obeyed  the  tacit  invi 
tation.     The  candle  emitted  a  feeble,  uncertain 
ray,  but  still  he  could  see  the  figure  before  him 
slowly  descending  the  stairs.    He  followed  trem 
bling.     When  it  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs  it  turned  through  the  hall  towards  the  back 
door  of  the  mansion.     Dolph  held  the  light  over 
ballustrades,  but,  in  his  eagerness  to  catch  a  sight 
of  the  unknown,  he  flared  his  feeble  taper  so 
suddenly,  that  it  went   out.     Still   there  was 
sufficient  light  from  the  pale  moon  beams  that 
fell  through  a  narrow  window,  to  give  him  an 
indistinct  view  of  the  figure,  near  the  door.  He 
followed,    therefore,  down    stairs,  and  turned 
towards    the  place;    but   when   he   got  there 
the  unknown  had   disappeared.     The  door  re 
mained  fast  barred  and  bolted ;  there  was  no 


260  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

other  mode  of  exit ;  yet  the  being,  whatever  he 
might  be,  was  gone.  He  unfastened  the  door 
and  looked  out  into  the  fields.  It  was  a  hazy 
moonlight  night ;  so  that  the  eye  could  distin 
guish  objects  at  some  distance.  He  thought  he 
saw  the  unknown  in  a  footpath,  that  led  from 
the  door.  He  was  not  mistaken  ;  but  how  had 
he  got  out  of  the  house  ?  He  did  not  pause  to 
think,  but  followed  on.  The  old  man  proceeded 
at  a  measured  pace,  without  looking  about  him, 
his  footsteps  sounding  on  the  hard  ground.  He 
passed  through  the  orchard  of  apple  trees,  that 
stood  near  the  house,  always  keeping  to  the  foot 
path.  It  led  to  a  well,  situated  in  a  little  hollow, 
which  had  supplied  the  farm  with  water.  Just 
at  this  well  Dolph  lost  sight  of  him.  He  rub 
bed  his  eyes  and  looked  again  ;  but  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  of  the  unknown.  He  reached  the 
well,  but  nobody  was  there.  All  the  surround 
ing  ground  was  open  and  clear ;  there  was  no 
bush  nor  hiding  place.  He  looked  down  the 
well,  and  saw,  at  a  great  depth,  the  reflection  of 
the  sky  in  the  still  water.  After  remaining  here 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  261 

for  some  time,  without  seeing  or  hearing  any 
thing  more  of  his  mysterious  conductor;  here- 
turned  to  the  house  full  of  awe  and  wonder. 
He  bolted  the  door ;  groped  his  way  back  to 
bed  ;  and  it  was  long  before  he  could  compose 
himself  to  sleep. 

His  dreams  were  strange  and  troubled.  He 
thought  he  was  following  the  old  man  along  the 
side  of  a  great  river,  until  they  came  to  a  vessel 
that  was  on  the  point  of  sailing,  and  that  his 
conductor  led  him  on  board  arid  vanished.  He 
remembered  the  commander  of  the  vessel,  a  short 
swarthy  man,  with  crisped  black  hair,  blind  of 
one  eye,  and  lame  of  one  leg ;  but  the  rest  of  his 
dream  was  very  confused.  Sometimes  he  was 
sailing,  sometimes  on  shore  ;  now  amidst  storms 
and  tempests,  and  now  wandering  quietly  in  un 
known  streets.  The  figure  of  the  unknown  was 
strangely  mingled  up  with  the  incidents  of  the 
dream  ;  and  the  whole  distinctly  wound  up  by 
his  finding  himself  on  board  of  the  vessel  again, 
returning  home  with  a  great  bag  of  money ! 


262  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

When  he  woke,  the  gray  cool  light  of  dawn 
was  streaking  the  horizon,  and  the  cocks  passing 
the  rcveil  from  farm  to  farm  throughout  the 
country.  He  rose  more  harassed  and  perplexed 
than  ever.  He  was  singularly  confounded  by 
all  that  he  had  seen  and  dreamt,  and  began  to 
doubt  whether  his  mind  was  not  affected,  and 
whether  all  that  was  passing  in  his  thoughts 
might  not  be  mere  feverish  fantasy.  In  his  pre 
sent  state  of  mind  he  did  not  feel  disposed  to 
return  immediately  to  the  doctor's,  and  undergo 
the  cross-questioning  of  the  household.  He 
made  a  scanty  breakfast,  therefore,  on  the  re 
mains  of  his  last  night's  provisions ;  and  then 
wandered  out  into  the  fields  to  meditate  on  all 
that  had  befallen  him.  Lost  in  thought,  he  ram 
bled  about,  gradually  approaching  the  town,  until 
the  morning  was  far  advanced,  when  he  was 
roused  by  a  hurry  and  bustle  around  him.  He 
found  himself  near  the  water's  edge  in  a  throng 
of  people,  hurrying  to  a  pier  where  there  was  a 
vessel  ready  to  make  sail.  He  was  unconsciously 
carried  along  by  the  impulse  of  the  crowd,  and 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  263 

found  that  it  was  a  sloop,  on  the  point  of  sailing 
up  the  Hudson  to  Albany.  There  was  much 
leave-taking,  and  kissing  of  old  women  and 
children,  and  great  activity  in  carrying  on  board 
baskets  of  bread  and  cakes,  and  provisions  of  all 
kinds,  notwithstanding  the  mighty  joints  of 
meat  that  dangled  over  the  stern  ;  for  a  voyage 
to  Albany  was  an  expedition  of  great  moment 
in  those  days.  The  commander  of  the  sloop 
was  hurrying  about  and  giving  a  world  of  or 
ders,  which  were  not  very  strictly  attended  to  ; 
one  man  being  busy  in  lighting  his  pipe,  and  ano 
ther  in  sharpening  his  snicker-snee. 

The  appearance  of  the  commander  suddenly 
caught  Dolph's  attention ;  he  was  short  and  swar 
thy,  with  crisped  black  hair,  blind  of  one  eye 
and  lame  of  one  leg — the  very  commander  that 
he  had  seen  in  his  dream  !  Surprized  and  arous 
ed  he  considered  the  scene  more  attentively,  and 
recalled  still  further  traces  of  his  dream ;  the 
appearance  of  the  vessel,  of  the  river,  and  of  a 
a  variety  of  other  objects,  accorded  with  the  im 
perfect  images  vaguely  rising  to  recollection. 


264  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

As  he  stood  musing  on  these  circumstances, 
the  captain  suddenly  called  to  him  in  Dutch, 
"  step  on  board,  young  man ;  or  you'll  be  left 
behind!"  He  was  startled  by  the  summons; 
he  saw  that  the  sloop  was  cast  loose,  and  was 
actually  moving  from  the  pier ;  it  seemed  as  if  he 
was  actuated  by  some  irresistible  impulse ;  he 
sprung  upon  the  deck,  and  the  next  moment  the 
sloop  was  hurried  off  by  the  wind  and  tide, 
Dolph's  thoughts  and  feelings  were  all  in  tu 
mult  and  confusion.  He  had  been  strongly 
worked  upon  by  the  events  that  had  recently 
befallen  him,  and  could  not  but  think  that  there 
was  some  connexion  between  his  present  situa 
tion  and  his  last  night's  dream.  He  felt  as  if  he 
was  under  supernatural  influence  ;  and  he  tried 
to  assure  himself  with  an  old  and  favourite  max 
im  of  his,  that  "  one  way  or  other  all  would  turn 
out  for  the  best."  For  a  moment,  the  indigna 
tion  of  the  doctor  at  his  departure  without  leave, 
passed  across  his  mind,  but  that  was  a  matter  of 
little  moment ;  then  he  thought  of  the  distress  of 
his  mother  at  his  strange  disappearance  ;  and  the 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  265 

idea  gave  him  a  sudden  pang.     He  would  have 
intreated  to  he  put  on  shore,  but  he  knew  with 
such  \vind  and  tide  the  entreaty  would  have  been 
in  vain.     Then  the  inspiring  love  of  novelty  and 
adventure  cnine   rushing  in  full  tide  through  his 
bosom ;  he  felt  himself  launched,  strangely  and 
suddenly  on  the  world,  and  under  full  way  to  ex 
plore  the  regions  of  wonder  that  lay  up  this  mighty 
river,  and  beyond  those  blue  mountains  that  had 
bounded  his  horizon  since  childhood.    While  he 
was  lost  in  this  whirl  of  thought,  the  sails  strained 
to  the  freeze  ;  the  shores  seemed  to  hurry  away 
behind  him ;  and,  before  he  perfectly  recovered 
his  self-possession,  the  sloop  was  ploughing  her 
way   past  Spiking  Devil   and  Yonkers,  and  the 
tallest  chimney   of  the  Manhattoes  had   faded 
from  his  sight. 

I  have  said  that  a  voyage  up  the  Hudson  in 
those  days  was  an  undertaking  of  some  mo 
ment  ;  indeed  it  was  as  much  thought  of  as  a 
voyage  to  Europe  is  at  present.  The  sloops 
were  often  many  days  on  the  way  ;  the  cautious 
navigators  taking  in  sail  when  it  blew  fresh,  and 

VOL.  ii.  34 


266  DOLPH  HEYLIGEK. 

coming  to  anchor  at  night ;  and  stopping  to  send 
the  boat  ashore  for  milk  for  tea,  without  which 
it  wras  impossible  for  the  worthy  old  lady  pas 
sengers  to  subsist.  And  then  there  were  the 
much  talked  of  perils  of  the  Tappaan  Zee,  and 
the  Highlands.  In  short,  a  prudent  Dutch  bur 
gher  would  talk  of  such  a  voyage  for  months  and 
even  years  before  hand  ;  and  never  undertook 
it  without  putting  his  affairs  in  order,  making 
his  will,  and  having  prayers  said  for  him  in  the 
Low  Dutch  churches. 

In  the  course  of  such  a  voyage,  therefore, 
Dolph  was  satisfied  he  would  have  time  enough 
to  reflect,  and  to  make  up  his  mind  what  he 
should  do  when  he  arrived  at  Albany.  The  cap 
tain  with  his  blind  eye  and  lame  leg,  would,  it  is 
true,  bring  his  strange  dream  to  mind,  and  perplex 
him  sadly  for  a  few  moments  ;  but  of  late  his 
life  had  been  made  up  so  much  of  dreams  arid 
realities;  his  nights  and  days  had  been  so  jum 
bled  together,  that  he  seemed  to  be  moving  con 
tinually  in  a  delusion.  There  is  always,  how 
ever,  a  kind  of  vagabond  consolation  in  a  man's 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  267 

having  nothing  in  this  world  to  lose  ;  with  this 
Dolph  comforted  his  heart,  and  determined 
to  make  the  most  of  the  present  enjoyment. 

In  the  second  day  of  their  voyage  they  came 
to  the  Highlands.  It  was  the  latter  part  of  a 
calm,  sultry  day  that  they  floated  gently  with 
the  tide  between  these  stern  mountains  There 
was  that  perfect  quiet  which  prevails  over  na 
ture  in  the  languor  of  summer  heat.  The  turn 
ing  of  a  plank,  or  the  accidental  falling  of  an 
oar  on  deck,  was  echoed  from  the  mountain  side 
and  reverberated  along  the  shores ;  and  if  by 
chance  the  captain  gave  a  shout  of  command, 
there  were  airy  tongues  that  mocked  it  from 
every  cliff. 

Dolph  gazed  about  him  in  mute  delight  and 
wonder  at  these  scenes  of  nature's  magnificence. 
To  the  left  the  Dunderberg  heaved  its  woody 
precipices,  height  over  height,  forest  over  forest, 
away  into  the  deep  summer  sky.  To  the  right 
strutted  forth  the  bold  promontory  of  Anthony's 
Nose,  with  a  solitary  eagle  wheeling  about  it ; 
while  beyond,  mountain  succeeded  to  mountain. 


268  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

until  they  seemed  to  lock  their  arms  together, 
and  confine  this  mighty  river  in  their  embraces. 
There  was  a  feeling  of  quiet  luxury  in  gazing 
at  the  broad  green  bosoms  here  and  there  scoop 
ed  out  among  the  precipices ;  or  at  woodlands 
high  in  air,  nodding  over  the  edge  of  some  beet 
ling  bluff,  and  all  transparent  in  the  yellow 
sunshine, 

In  the  midst  of  his  admiration  Dolph  remark 
ed  a  pile  of  bright  snowy  clouds  peering  above 
the  western  heights.  It  was  succeeded  by 
another,  and  another,  each  seemingly  pushing 
onwards  its  predecessor,  and  towering,  with  daz 
zling  brilliancy,  in  the  deep  blue  atmosphere. 
And  now  muttering  peals  of  thunder  were  faintly 
heard,  rolling  behind  the  mountains.  The  river, 
hitherto  still  and  glassy,  reflecting  pictures  of 
the  sky  and  land,  now  showed  a  dark  ripple 
at  a  distance,  as  the  breeze  came  creeping  up  it. 
The  fish  hawks  wheeled  and  screamed,  and 
sought  their  nests  on  the  high  dry  trees ;  the 
crows  flew  clamorously  to  the  crevices  of  the 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  269 

rocks,  and  all  nature  seemed  conscious  of  the  ap 
proaching  thunder  gust. 

The  clouds  now  rolled  in  volumes  over  the 
mountain  tops ;  their  summits  still  bright  and 
snowy,  but  the  lower  parts  of  an  inky  black 
ness.  The  rain  began  to  patter  down  in  broad 
and  scattered  drops ;  the  wind  freshened  and 
curled  up  the  waves;  at  length  it  seemed  as  if 
the  bellying  clouds  were  torn  open  by  the  moun 
tain  tops,  and  complete  torrents  of  rain  came 
rattling  down.  The  lightning  leaped  from  cloud 
to  cloud ;  and  streamed  quivering  against  the 
rocks,  splitting  and  rending  the  stoutest  forest 
trees.  The  thunder  burst  in  tremendous  explo 
sions  ;  the  peals  were  echoed  from  mountain  to 
mountain  ;  they  crashed  upon  Dunderberg,  and 
then  rolled  up  the  long  defile  of  the  Highlands; 
each  headland  making  a  new  echo,  until  old 
Bull  Hill  seemed  to  bellow  back  the  storm. 

For  a  time  the  scudding  rack  and  mist,  and 
the  sheeted  rain  almost  hid  the  landscape  from 
the  sight ;  there  was  a  fearful  gloom,  illumined 
still  more  fearfully  by  the  streams  of  lightning 


270  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

which  glittered  among  the  rain  drops.  Never 
had  Dolph  beheld  such  an  absolute  warring  of 
the  elements;  it  seemed  as  if  the  storm  was 
tearing  and  rending  its  way  through  this  moun 
tain  defile,  and  had  brought  all  the  artillery  of 
Heaven  into  action. 

The  vessel  was  hurried  on  by  the  increasing 
wind,  until  she  came  to  where  the  river  makes 
a  sudden  bend,  the  only  one  in  the  whole  course 
of  its  majestic  career.*  Just  as  they  turned  the 
point  a  violent  flaw  of  wind  came  sweeping  down 
a  mountain  gully,  bending  the  forest  before  it, 
and  in  a  moment  lashing  up  the  river  into  white 
froth  and  foam.  The  captain  saw  the  danger, 
and  cried  out  to  lower  the  sail.  Before  the  order 
could  be  obeyed  the  flaw  struck  the  sloop  and 
threw  her  on  her  beam  ends.  Every  thing  now 
was  fright  and  confusion.  The  flapping  of  the 
sails  ;  the  whistling  and  rushing  of  the  wind ; 
the  bawling  of  the  captain  and  crew ;  the  shriek 
ing  of  the  passengers ; — all  mingled  with  the  roll- 

*  This  must  have  been  the  bend  at  West  Point. 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  271 

ing  and  bellowing  of  the  thunder.  In  the  midst 
of  the  uproar  the  sloop  righted.  At  the  same 
time  the  mainsail  shifted ;  the  boom  came  sweep 
ing  the  quarter-deck  ;  and  Dolph,  who  was  gaz 
ing  unguardedly  at  the  clouds,  found  himself,  in. 
a  moment,  floundering  in  the  river. 

For  once  in  his  life  one  of  his  idle  accomplish 
ments  was  of  use  to  him.  The  many  truant 
hours  which  he  had  devoted  to  sporting  in  the 
Hudson,  had  made  him  an  expert  swimmer ; 
yet,  with  all  his  strength  and  skill,  he  found 
great  difficulty  in  reaching  the  shore.  His  dis 
appearance  from  the  deck  had  not  been  noticed 
by  the  crew,  who  were  all  occupied  with  their 
own  danger.  The  sloop  was  driven  along  with 
inconceivable  rapidity.  She  had  hard  work  to 
weather  a  long  promontory  on  the  eastern  shore, 
round  which  the  river  turned,  and  which  com 
pletely  shut  her  from  Dolph's  view. 

It  was  on  a  point  of  the  western  shore  that 
he  landed,  and  scrambling  up  the  rocks  he 
threw  himself,  faint  and  exhausted,  at  the  foot 
of  a  tree.  By  degrees  the  thunder  gust  passed 


272  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

over.      The   clouds   rolled   away   to  the  east, 
where  they  lay  piled  in  feathery  masses,  tinted 
with  the  last  rosy  rays  of  the  sun.     The  distant 
play  of  the  lightning  might  be  still  seen  about 
their  dark  bases,  and  now  and  then  might  be 
heard    the    faint    muttering  of    the    thunder. 
Dolph  rose  and  sought  about,  to  see  if  any  path 
led  from   the   shore,  but  all   was  savage  and 
trackless.     The   rocks   were  piled   upon   each 
other  ;  great  trunks  of  trees  lay  shattered  about, 
as  they  had  been  blown   down  by  the  strong 
winds  which  draw  through  these  mountains,  or 
had  fallen  through  age.     The  rocks,  too,  were 
overhung   with  wild  vines  and    briars,    which 
completely  matted  themselves  together,  and  op 
posed  a  barrier  to  all  ingress ;  every  movement 
that  he  made  shook  down  a  shower  from  the 
dripping  foliage.     He  attempted  to  scale  one  of 
these    almost  perpendicular    heights;    he   was 
strong  and  agile,  but  he  found  it  an  Herculean 
undertaking.     Often  he  was  supported  merely 
by  crumbling  projections  of  the  rock,  and  some 
times  he  clung  to  roots  and  branches  of  trees, 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  273 

and  hung  almost  suspended  in  the  air.  The 
wood  pigeon  came  cleaving  his  whistling  flight 
by  him,  and  the  eagle  screamed  from  the  brow 
of  the  impending  cliff.  As  he  was  thus  clam 
bering,  he  was  on  the  point  of  seizing  hold  of 
a  shrub,  to  aid  his  ascent,  when  something  rustled 
swiftly  among  the  leaves,  and  he  saw  a  snake 
quivering  along  like  lightning,  almost  from  un 
der  his  hand.  It  coiled  itself  up  immediately, 
in  an  attitude  of  defiance,  with  flattened  head, 
distended  jaws,  and  quickly  vibrating  tongue, 
that  played  like  a  little  flame  about  its  mouth. 
Dolph's  heart  turned  faint  within  him,  and  he 
had  well  nigh  let  go  his  hold,  and  tumbled 
down  the  precipice.  The  serpent  stood  on  the 
defensive  but  for  an  instant ;  it  was  an  instinc 
tive  movement  of  defence ;  and,  finding  there 
was  no  attack,  it  glided  away  into  a  cleft  of  the 
rock.  Dolph's  eye  followed  it  with  fearful  in 
tensity,  and  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  in 
the  vicinity  of  a  nest  of  adders,  that  lay  knot 
ted  and  writhing  and  hissing  in  the  chasm. 
He  hastened  with  all  speed  to  escape  from  so 
VOL.  ii.  35 


274  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

frightful  a  neighbourhood.  His  imagination 
was  full  of  this  new  horror ;  he  saw  an  adder 
in  every  curling  vine,  and  heard  the  tail  of  a  rat 
tle  snake  in  every  dry  leaf  that  rustled. 

At  length  he  succeeded  in  scrambling  to  the 
summit  of  a  precipice ;  but  it  was  covered  by  a 
dense  forest.  Wherever  he  could  gain  a  look 
out  between  the  trees,  he  saw  that  the  coast  rose 
into  heights  and  cliffs,  one  rising  beyond  another, 
until  huge  mountains  overtopped  the  whole. 
There  were  no  signs  of  cultivation,  nor  any 
smoke  curling  from  among  the  trees  to  indicate 
a  human  residence.  Every  thing  was  wild  and 
solitary.  As  he  was  standing  on  the  edge  of  a 
precipice  that  overlooked  a  deep  ravine,  fringed 
with  trees,  his  feet  detached  a  great  fragment  of 
rock  ;  it  fell  crashing  its  way  through  the  tree 
tops,  down  into  the  chasm.  A  loud  whoop  or 
rather  a  yell  issued  from  the  bottom  of  the  glen  ; 
the  moment  after  there  was  the  report  of  a  gun, 
and  a  ball  came  whistling  over  his  head,  cutting 
the  twigs  and  leaves,  and  burying  itself  deep  in 
the  bark  of  a  chestnut  tree. 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  275 

Dolph  did  not  wait  for  a  second  shot,  but  made 
a  precipitate  retreat ;  fearing  every  moment  to 
hear  the  enemy  in  pursuit  He  succeeded,  how 
ever,  in  returning  unmolested  to  the  shore,  and 
determined  to  penetrate  no  farther  into  a  country 
so  beset  with  savage  perils. 

He  sat  himself  down,  dripping  disconsolately, 
on  a  wet  stone.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  where 
was  he  to  shelter  himself?  The  hour  of  repose 
was  approaching ;  the  birds  were  seeking  their 
nests ;  the  bat  began  to  flit  about  in  the  twilight ; 
and  the  night  hawk  soaring  high  in  heaven,  seem 
ed  to  be  calling  out  the  stars.  Night  gradually 
closed  in  and  wrapped  every  thing  in  gloom  ;  and 
though  it  was  the  latter  part  of  summer,  yet  the 
breeze,  stealing  along  the  river,  and  among  these 
dripping  forests,  was  chilly  and  penetrating, 
especially  to  a  half-drowned  man. 

As  he  sat  drooping  and  despondent  in  this  com 
fortless  condition,  he  perceived  a  light  gleaming 
through  the  trees  near  the  shore,  where  the 
winding  of  the  river  made  a  deep  bay.  It 
cheered  him  with  the  hopes  that  here  might  be 


276  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

some  human  habitation,  where  he  might  get 
something  to  appease  the  clamorous  cravings  of 
his  stomach,  and,  what  was  equally  necessary  in 
his  shipwrecked  condition,  a  comfortable  shelter 
for  the  night.  It  was  with  extreme  difficulty 
that  he  made  his  way  towards  the  light ;  along 
ledges  of  rocks,  down  which  he  was  in  danger 
of  sliding  into  the  river ;  and  over  great  trunks 
of  fallen  trees,  some  of  which  had  been  blown 
down  in  the  late  storm,  and  lay  so  thickly  to 
gether  that  he  had  to  struggle  through  their 
branches.  At  length  he  came  to  the  brow  of  a 
rock  that  overhung  a  small  dell,  from  whence 
the  light  proceeded.  It  was  from  a  fire  at  the 
foot  of  a  great  tree  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  a 
grassy  interval  or  plat  among  the  rocks.  The 
fire  cast  up  a  red  glare  among  the  gray  crags  and 
impending  trees,  leaving  chasms  of  deep  gloom, 
that  looked  like  entrances  to  caverns.  A  small 
brook  rippled  close  by,  betrayed  by  the  quiver 
ing  reflection  of  the  frame.  There  were  two 
figures  moving  about  the  fire,  and  others  squat 
ted  before  it.  As  they  were  between  him  and 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  277 

the  light  they  were  in  complete  shadow  ;  but  one 
of  them  happening  to  move  round  to  the  opposite 
side,  Dolph  was  startled  at  perceiving,  by  the 
full  glare  falling  on  painted  features,  and  glitter 
ing  on  silver  ornaments,  that  he  was  an  Indian. 
He  now  looked  more  narrowly,  and  saw  guns 
leaning  against  a  tree,  and  a  dead  body  lying  on 
the  ground. 

Dolph  now  began  to  doubt  whether  he  was 
not  in  a  worse  condition  than  before ;  here  was 
the  very  foe  that  had  fired  at  him  from  the  glen. 
He  endeavoured  to  retreat  quietly,  not  caring  to 
intrust  himself  to  these  half  human  beings,  in  so 
savage  and  lonely  a  place.  It  was  too  late.  The 
Indian,  with  that  eagle  quickness  of  eye  so  re 
markable  in  his  race,  perceived  something  stir 
ring  among  the  bushes  on  the  rock.  He  seized 
one  of  the  guns  that  leaned  against  the  tree  ;  a 
moment  more  and  Dolph  might  have  had  his 
passion  for  adventure  cured  by  a  bullet.  He 
hallooed  loudly  in  the  Indian  salutation  of  friend 
ship.  The  whole  party  sprang  upon  their  feet ; 
the  salutation  was  returned,  and  the  straggler 
was  invited  to  join  them  at  the  fire. 


278  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

On  approaching  he  found,  to  his  consolation, 
that  the  party  was  composed  of  white  men,  as 
well  as  Indians.  One,  who  was  evidently  the 
principal  personage,  or  commander,  was  seated 
on  a  trunk  of  a  tree  before  the  fire.  He  was  a 
large  stout  man,  somewhat  advanced  in  life, 
but  hale  and  hearty.  His  face  was  bronzed  al 
most  to  the  colour  of  an  Indian's,  with  strong 
but  rather  jovial  features,  an  aquiline  nose,  and 
a  mouth  shaped  like  a  mastiff's.  His  face  was 
half  thrown  in  shade  by  a  broad  hat  with  a 
buck's  tail  in  it.  His  iron  gray  hair  hung  short 
in  his  neck.  He  wore  a  hunting  frock,  with 
Indian  leggings,  and  mockasons,  and  a  toma 
hawk  in  the  broad  wampum  belt  round  his  waist 
As  Dolph  caught  a  distinct  view  of  his  person 
and  features,  he  was  struck  with  something  that 
reminded  him  of  the  old  man  of  the  Haunted 
House.  The  man  before  him,  however,  was  dif 
ferent  in  his  dress  and  age ;  he  was  more  cheery 
too  in  his  aspect,  and  it  was  hard  to  define  where 
the  vague  resemblance  lay  ;  but  a  resemblance 
there  certainly  was.  Dolph  felt  some  degree  of 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  279 

awe  in  approaching  him ;  but  was  assured  by 
the  frank,  hearty  welcome  with  which  he  was 
received.  As  he  cast  his  eyes  about,  too,  he 
was  still  farther  encouraged  by  perceiving  that 
the  dead  body  which  had  caused  him  some  alarm, 
was  that  of  a  deer;  and  his  satisfaction  was 
complete  in  discovering,  by  the  savoury  steams 
which  issued  from  a  kettle  suspended  by  a 
hooked  stick  over  the  fire,  that  there  was  a  part 
cooking  for  the  evening's  repast.  He  now  found 
that  he  had  fallen  in  with  a  rambling  hunting 
party,  such  as  often  took  place  in  those  days 
among  the  settlers  along  the  river.  The  hunter  is 
always  hospitable,  and  nothing  makes  men  more 
social  and  unceremonious  than  meeting  in  the 
wilderness.  The  commander  of  the  party 
poured  him  out  a  dram  of  cheering  liquor,  which 
he  gave  him,  with  a  merry  leer,  to  warm  his 
heart,  and  ordered  one  of  his  followers  to  fetch 
some  garments  from  a  pinnace,  which  was 
moored  in  a  cove  close  by;  while  those  in 
which  our  hero  was  dripping,  might  be  dried 
before  the  fire. 


280  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

Dolph  found,  as  he  had  suspected,  that  the 
shot  from  the  glen  which  had  come  so  near 
giving  him  his  quietus  when  on  the  precipice, 
was  from  the  party  before  him.  He  had  nearly 
crushed  one  of  them  by  the  fragment  of  rock 
which  he  had  detached ;  and  the  jovial  old 
hunter,  in  the  broad  hat  and  bucktail,  had  fired 
at  the  place  where  he  saw  the  bushes  move, 
supposing  it  to  be  some  wild  animal.  He 
laughed  heartily  at  the  blunder  ;  it  being  what 
is  considered  an  exceeding  good  joke  among 
hunters ;  "  but  faith,  my  lad,"  said  he,  "  if  I 
had  but  caught  a  glimpse  of  you  to  take  sight 
at,  you  would  have  followed  the  rock.  Antony 
Vander  Heyden  is  seldom  known  to  miss  his 
aim."  These  last  words  were  at  once  a  clue 
to  Dolph's  curiosity ;  and  a  few  questions  let 
him  completely  into  the  character  of  the  man 
before  him,  and  of  his  band  of  woodland  ran 
gers.  The  commander  in  the  broad  hat  and 
hunting  frock,  was  no  less  a  personage  than  the 
Heer  Antony  Vander  Heyden,  of  Albany,  of 
whom  Dolph  had  many  a  time  heard.  He  was, 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  281 

in  fact,  the  hero  of  many  a  story  ;  being  a  man  of 
singular  humours,  and  whimsical  habits,  that 
were  matters  of  wonder  to  his  quiet  Dutch  neigh 
bours.  As  he  was  a  man  of  property,  having 
had  a  father  before  him  from  whom  he  inherited 
large  tracts  of  wild  land,  and  whole  barrels  full 
of  wampum,  he  could  indulge  his  humours 
without  control.  Instead  of  staying  quietly  at 
home,  eating  and  drinking  at  regular  meal  times, 
amusing  himself  by  smoking  his  pipe  on  the 
bench  before  the  door,  and  then  turning  into  a 
comfortable  bed  at  night,  he  delighted  in  all 
kinds  of  rough,  wild  expeditions.  He  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  on  a  hunting  party  in 
the  wilderness,  sleeping  under  trees  or  bark 
sheds ;  or  cruising  down  the  river,  or  on  some 
woodland  lake,  fishing,  and  fowling,  and  li 
ving,  the  Lord  knows  how. 

He  was  a  great  friend  to  Indians,  and  to  an 
Indian  mode  of  life,  which  he  considered  true 
natural  liberty  and  manly  enjoyment.  When  at 
home  he  had  always  several  Indian  hangers-on, 
who  loitered  about  his  house,  sleeping  like 

VOL.  n.  36 


282  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

hounds  in  the  sunshine,  or  preparing  hunting  and 
fishing  tackle  for  some  new  expedition ;  or  shoot 
ing  at  marks  with  bows  and  arrows.  Over  these 
vagrant  beings  Heer  Antony  had  as  perfect  com 
mand  as  a  huntsman  over  his  pack;  though  they 
were  great  nuisances  to  the  regular  people  of  his 
neighbourhood.  As  he  was  a  rich  man,  no  one 
ventured  to  thwart  his  humours ;  indeed,  he  had 
a  hearty  joyous  manner  about  him  that  made  him 
universally  popular.  He  would  troll  a  Dutch 
song  as  he  tramped  along  the  street ;  hail  every 
one  half  a  mile  off;  and  when  he  entered  a  house, 
he  would  slap  the  good  man  familiarly  on  his 
back,  shake  him  by  the  hand  till  he  roared,  and 
kiss  his  wife  and  daughters  before  his  face — in 
short,  there  was  no  pride  nor  ill  humour  about 
Heer  Antony. 

Beside  his  Indian  hangers-on,  he  had  three 
or  four  humble  friends  among  the  white  men, 
who  looked  up  to  him  as  a  patron,  and  had  the 
run  of  his  kitchen,  and  the  favour  of  being  taken 
with  Jiim  occasionally  on  his  expeditions.  It 
was  with  a  medley  of  such  retainers  that  he  was 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  283 

at  present  on  a  cruize  along  the  shores  of  the 
Hudson,  in  a  pinnace  which  he  kept  for  his  own 
recreation.  There  were  two  white  men  with 
him,  dressed  partly  in  the  Indian  style,  with 
mockasons  and  hunting  shirts ;  the  rest  of  his 
crew  consisted  of  four  favourite  Indians.  They 
had  been  prowling  about  the  river,  without  any 
definite  object,  until  they  had  found  themselves 
in  the  Highlands,  where  they  had  passed  two  or 
three  days,  hunting  the  deer  which  still  lingered 
among  those  mountains. 

"  It  is  a  lucky  circumstance,  young  man," 
said  Antony  Vander  Heyden,  "  that  you  hap 
pened  to  be  knocked  overboard  to-day ;  as  to 
morrow  morning  we  start  early  on  our  return 
homewards ;  and  you  might  then  have  looked 
in  vain  for  a  meal  among  these  mountains. — 
u  But  come,  lads ;  stir  about !  stir  about !  Let's 
see  what  prog  we  have  for  supper ;  the  kettle 
has  boiled  long  enough ;  my  stomach  cries  cup- 
bo-ird ;  and  I'll  warrant  our  guest  is  in  no  mood 
to  dally  with  his  trencher." 

There  was  a  bustle  now  in  the  little  encamp- 


284  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

merit ;  one  took  off  the  kettle  and  turned  apart  of 
the  contents  into  a  huge  wooden  bowl ;  another 
prepared  a  flat  rock  for  a  table ;  while  a  third 
brought  various  utensils  from  the  pinnace  which 
was  moored  close  by,  and  Heer  Antony  himself 
brought  a  flask  or  two  of  precious  liquor  from 
his  own  private  locker,  knowing  his  boon  com 
panions  too  well  to  trust  any  of  them  with  the 
key.  A  rude  but  hearty  repast  was  soon  spread ; 
consisting  of  smoking  vefnison,  and  cold  bacon, 
with  Indian  corn  and  round  brown  loaves  of 
good  household  bread.  Never  had  Dolph  made 
a  more  delicious  repast;  and  when  he  had  wash 
ed  it  down  by  two  or  three  draughts  from  the 
Heer  Antony's  flask,  and  felt  the  jolly  liquor  send 
ing  its  warmth  through  his  veins  and  glowing 
round  his  heart,  he  would  not  have  changed  his 
situation — no,  not  with  the  Governor  of  the 
province. 

The  Heer  Antony,  too,  grew  chirping  and 
joyous ;  he  told  half  a  dozen  fat  stories,  at  which 
his  white  followers  laughed  immoderately, 
though  the  Indians  as  usual  maintained  an  in 
vincible  gravity.  "  This  is  your  true  life,  my 


BOLFH  HEYLIGER.  285 

boy,"  would  he  say,  slapping  Dolph  on  the 
shoulder,  "  a  man  is  never  a  man  till  he  can 
defy  wind  and  weather;  range  in  the  woods, 
sleep  under  a  tree,  and  live  on  bass  wood  leaves  !5' 
And  then  he  would  sit,  with  his  hat  on  one  side, 
swaying  a  short  squab  Dutch  bottle  in  his  hand, 
and  sing  a  stave  or  two  of  a  Dutch  drinking 
song,  to  which  his  myrmidons  would  join  in 
chorus. 

With  all  his  joviality,  however,  he  mingled 
discretion.  Though  he  pushed  the  bottle  unre 
servedly  to  Dolph,  yet  he  always  took  care  to 
help  his  followers  himself;  and  was  particular  in 
only  granting  a  certain  allowance  to  the  Indians. 
Heer  Antony  knew  the  kind  of  beings  he  had  to 
deal  with. 

The  repast  was  now  at  an  end.  The  Indians 
had  made  their  supper  in  silence,  from  the  con 
tents  of  the  kettle,  and  having  drank  their  allow 
ance  and  smoked  their  pipes,  they  wrapped 
themselves  in  their  blankets,  stretched  themselves 
on  the  ground  with  their  feet  to  the  fire,  and 
soon  fell  asleep.  The  others  remained  chatting 


286  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

before  the  fire,  which  the  gloom  of  the  forest  and 
the  dampness  of  the  air  from  the  late  storm,  ren 
dered  extremely  comfortable  and  cheering. 

The  conversation  gradually  moderated  from 
the  hilarity  of  supper  time,  and  turned  upon 
hunting  adventures  and  exploits  and  perils  in  the 
wilderness  ;  many  of  which  were  so  strange  and 
improbable,  that  I  will  not  venture  to  repeat 
them,  lest  the  veracity  of  Heer  Antony  and  his 
comrades  be  brought  into  question.  There  were 
many  legendary  tales  told,  also,  about  the  river 
and  the  settlements  on  its  borders ;  and  as  Heer 
Antony  sat  in  a  twisted  root  of  a  fallen  tree,  that 
served  him  for  a  kind  of  arm  chair,  and  told  these 
wild  stories,  with  the  fire  gleaming  on  his  strong 
ly  marked  face,  Dolph  was  again  repeatedly 
struck  with  something  in  his  looks  that  reminded 
him  of  the  nightly  visiter  to  the  Haunted  House. 

The  circumstance  of  Dolph's  falling  overboard 
led  to  the  relation  of  anecdotes  of  mishaps  that 
had  befallen  voyagers  on  this  great  river ;  many 
of  which  were  attributed  to  supernatural  causes. 
On  Dolph's  staring  at  this  suggestion,  Antony 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  287 

Vander  Heyden  assured  him  that  it  was  very 
currently  believed,  among  the  settlers  along  the 
river,  that  these  Highlands  were  under  the  do 
minion  of  supernatural  and  mischievous  beings  ; 
which  seemed  particularly  to  vent  their  spleen 
upon  the  Dutch  skippers.  Some,  he  said,  be 
lieved  them  to  be  the  evil  spirits,  conjured  up  by 
the  Indian  wizards,  in  the  early  times  of  the 
province,  to  revenge  themselves  on  the  strangers 
who  had  dispossessed  them  of  their  country  ;  the 
greater  part,  however,  accounted  for  them  by 
the  legend  of  the  Storm  Ship,  which  haunted 
Point-no-point.  Finding  Dolph  to  be  utterly 
ignorant  of  this  tradition,  Heer  Antony  under 
took  to  tell  it,  in  the  very  words  in  which  it  had 
been  WTitten  out  by  Mynheer  Selyn,  an  early 
poet  of  the  New-Nederlandts.  Giving  therefore 
a  stir  to  the  fire,  he  adjusted  himself  comforta 
bly  in  his  root  of  a  tree,  and  throwing  back  his 
head  and  closing  his  eyes  for  a  few  moments  to 
summon  up  his  recollection,  he  related  the  followT- 
ing  legend. 


288  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 


THE  STORM  SHIP. 

IN  the  golden  age  of  the  province  of  the 
New  Netherlands,  when  it  was  under  the  sway 
of  Wouter  Van  Twiller,  otherwise  called  Wal 
ter  the  Doubter,  the  people  of  the  Manhattoes 
were  alarmed,  one  sultry  afternoon,  just  about 
the  time  of  the  summer  solstice,  by  a  tremendous 
storm  of  thunder  and  lightning.  The  rain  de 
scended  in  such  torrents  as  absolutely  to  spatter 
up  and  smoke  along  the  ground.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  thunder  rattled  and  rolled  over  the  very 
roofs  of  the  houses.  The  lightning  was  seen 
to  play  about  the  church  of  St.  Nicholas,  and 
to  strive  three  times,  in  vain,  to  strike  its  wea 
ther  cock.  Garret  Van  Home's  new  chimney 
was  split  almost  from  top  to  bottom,  and  Doffue 
Mildeberger  was  struck  speechless  from  his  bald 
faced  mare,  just  as  as  he  was  riding  into  town. 
In  a  word,  it  was  one  of  those  unparalleled 
storms  that  only  happen  once  within  the  me- 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  289 

mory  of  that  venerable  personage,  known  in  all 
towns  by  the  appellation  of  "  the  oldest  inhabi 


tant." 


Great  was  the  terror  of  the  good  old  women 
of  the  Manhattoes ;  they  gathered  their  children 
together  and  took  refuge  in  the  cellars,  after 
having  hung  a  shoe  on  the  iron  point  of  every 
bed  post,  lest  they  should  attract  the  lightning. 
At  length  the  storm  abated ;  the  thunder  sunk 
into  a  growl,  and  the  setting  sun  breaking  from 
under  the  fringed  borders  of  the  clouds,  made 
the  broad  bosom  of  the  bay  to  gleam  like  a  sea 
of  molten  gold. 

The  word  was  given  from  the  fort  that  a  ship 
was  standing  up  the  bay.  It  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth,  and  street  to  street,  and  soon  put  the 
little  capital  in  a  bustle.  The  arrival  of  a  ship, 
in  those  early  times  of  the  settlement,  was  an 
event  of  vast  importance  to  the  inhabitants.  It 
brought  them  news  from  the  old  world,  from  the 
land  of  their  birth,  from  which  they  were  so  com 
pletely  severed.  To  the  yearly  ship,  too,  they 
looked  for  their  supply  of  luxuries,  of  finery,  of 

VOL.  ii.  37 


290 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 


comforts,  and  almost  of  necessaries.  The  good 
vrouw  could  not  have  her  new  cap,  nor  new 
gown,  until  the  arrival  of  the  ship ;  the  artist 
waited  for  it  for  his  tools ;  the  burgomaster  for 
his  pipe  and  his  supply  of  Hollands  ;  the  school 
boy  for  his"  top  and  marbles ;  and  the  lordly 
landholder  for  the  bricks  with  which  he  was  to 
build  his  new  mansion.  Thus  every  one,  rich 
and  poor,  great  and  small,  looked  out  for  the  ar 
rival  of  "  The  Ship."  It  was  the  great  yearly 
event  of  the  town  of  New  Amsterdam  ;  and 
from  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other,  the  ship 
— the  ship — the  ship — was  the  continual  topic 
of  conversation. 

The  news  from  the  fort,  therefore,  brought  all 
the  populace  down  to  the  battery,  to  behold  the 
wished-for  sight.  It  was  not  exactly  the  time 
when  she  had  been  expected  to  arrive,  and  the 
circumstance  was  a  matter  of  some  speculation. 
Many  were  the  groups  collected  about  the  battery. 
Here  and  there  might  be  seen  a  burgomaster  of 
slow  and  pompous  gravity,  giving  his  opinion 
with,  great  confidence,  to  a  crowd  of  old  womea 


1DOLPH  HEYLlGER.  291 

and  idle  boys.  At  another  place  was  a  knot  of 
old  weather  beaten  fellows,  who  had  been  sea 
men  or  fishermen  in  their  times,  and  were  great 
authorities  on  such  occasions  :  these  gave  differ 
ent  opinions,  and  caused  great  disputes  among 
their  several  adherents.  But  the  man  most 
looked  up  to,  and  followed,  and  watched  by  the 
crowd  was  Hans  Van  Pelt,  an  old  Dutch  sea  cap 
tain  retired  from  service  ;  the  nautical  oracle  of 
the  place.  He  reconnoitred  the  ship  through 
an  ancient  telescope,  covered  with  tarry  canvas* 
hummed  a  Dutch  tune  to  himself,  and  said  no 
thing—a  hum,  however,  from  Hans  Van  Pek 
had  always  more  weight  with  the  public  than 
a  speech  from  another  man. 

In  the  mean  time  the  ship  became  more  dis 
tinct  to  the  naked  eye.  She  was  a  stout,  round, 
Dutch  built  vessel,  with  high  bow  and  poop,  and 
bearing  Dutch  colours.  The  evening  sun  gild 
ed  her  bellying  canvas,  as  she  came  riding  over 
the  long  waving  billows.  The  sentinel  who  had 
given  notice  of  her  approach  declared,  that  he 
first  got  sight  of  her  when  she  was  in  the  centre 


292  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

of  the  bay  ;  and  that  she  broke  suddenly  upon 
his  sight,  just  as  if  she  had  come  out  of  the  bo 
som  of  the  black  thunder  cloud.  The  by-stan- 
ders  looked  at  Hans  Van  Pelt  to  see  what  he 
would  say  to  this  report.  Hans  Van  Pelt  screw 
ed  his  mouth  closer  together  and  said  nothing  ; 
upon  which  some  shook  their  heads,  and  others 
shrugged  their  shoulders. 

The  ship  was  now  repeatedly  hailed,  but  made 
no  reply,  and  passing  by  the  fort,  stood  on  up  the 
Hudson.  A  gun  was  brought  to  bear  on  her, 
and,  with  some  difficulty  loaded  and  fired  by 
Hans  Van  Pelt,  the  garrison  not  being  expert  in 
artillery.  The  shot  seemed  absolutely  to  pass 
through  the  ship,  and  to  skip  along  the  water 
on  the  other  side,  but  no  notice  was  taken  of  it. 
What  was  strange,  she  had  all  her  sails  set,  and 
sailed  right  against  wind  and  tide,  which  were 
both  down  the  river. 

Upon  this  Hans  Van  Pelt,  who  was  likewise 
harbour  master,  ordered  his  boat,  and  set  off  to 
board  her,  but  after  rowing  for  two  or  three  hours 
he  returned  without  success.  Sometimes  he 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  298 

would  get  within  one  or  two  hundred  yards  of 
her,  and  then,  in  a  twinkling,  she  would  be  half 
a  mile  off.  Some  said  it  wras  because  his  oars 
men,  who  were  rather  pursy  and  short  winded, 
stopped  every  now  and  then  to  take  breath,  and 
spit  on  their  hands  ;  but  this,  it  is  probable,  was  a 
mere  scandal.  H  e  got  near  enough,  however,  to 
see  the  crew,  who  were  all  dressed  in  the  Dutch 
style  ;  the  officers  in  doublets  and  high  hats  and 
feathers.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  by  any  one 
on  board  ;  they  stood  as  motionless  as  so  many 
statues ;  and  the  ship  seemed  as  ifleft  to  her  own 
government.  Thus  she  kept  on,  away  up  the 
river,  lessening  and  lessening  in  the  evening  sun 
shine,  until  she  faded  from  sight,  like  a  little 
white  cloud,  melting  away  in  a  summer  sky. 

The  appearance  of  this  ship  threw  the  gover 
nor  into  one  of  the  deepest  doubts  that  ever  be 
set  him  in  the  whole  course  of  his  administration. 
Fears  were  entertained  for  the  security  of  the 
infant  settlements  on  the  river,  lest  this  might 
be  an  enemy's  ship  in  disguise  sent  to  take 
possession.  The  governor  called  together  his 
counsel  repeatedly  to  assist  him  with  their  con- 


294 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER* 


jectures.  He  sat  in  his  chair  of  state,  built  of 
timber  from  the  sacred  forest  of  the  Hague  ;  and 
smoked  his  long  jasmin  pipe ;  and  listened  to 
all  that  his  counsellors  had  to  say,  on  a  subject 
about  which  they  knew  nothing  ;  but  in  spite  of 
all  the  conjecturing  of  the  sagest  and  oldest  heads, 
the  governor  still  continued  to  doubt. 

Messengers  were  despatched  to  different  places 
on  the  river ;  but  they  returned  without  any 
tidings ;  the  ship  had  made  no  port.  Day  after 
dny,  and  week  after  week  elapsed  ;  but  she  never 
returned  down  the  Hudson.  As,  however,  the 
council  seemed  solicitous  for  intelligence,  they 
soon  had  it  in  abundance.  The  captains  of  the 
sloops  seldom  arrived  without  bringing  some  re 
port  of  having  seen  the  strange  ship,  at  different 
parts  of  the  river.  Sometimes  near  the  Pallisa- 
does ;  sometimes  off  Croton  point ;  and  some 
times  in  the  Highlands ;  but  she  was  never  re 
ported  as  having  been  seen  above  the  Highlands. 
The  crews  of  the  sloops,  it  is  true,  generally  dif 
fered  among  themselves  in  their  accounts  of 
these  apparitions;  but  that  may  have  arisen 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  295 

from  the  uncertain  situations  in  which  they  saw 
her.  Sometimes  it  was  by  the  flashes  of  a  thun 
der  storm,  lighting  up  a  pitchy  night,  and  giving 
glimpses  of  her  careering  across  Tappaan  Zee,  or 
the  wide  waste  of  Haverstraw  Bay.  At  one 
moment  she  would  appear  close  upon  them,  as  if 
likely  to  run  them  down;  and  would  throw 
them  into  great  bustle  and  alarm,  when  the  next 
flash  would  show  her  far  off;  always  sailing 
against  the  wind.  Sometimes,  in  quiet  moon 
light  nights,  she  would  be  seen  under  some  high 
bluff  of  the  Highlands,  all  in  deep  shadow,  ex 
cepting  her  top-sails  glittering  in  the  moon 
beams.  By  the  time,  however,  that  the  voyagers 
would  reach  the  place,  there  would  be  no  ship 
to  be  seen ;  and  when  they  had  passed  on  for 
some  distance,  and  looked  back,  behold !  there 
she  was  again,  with  her  top-sails  in  the  moon 
shine  !  Her  appearance  was  always  just  after, 
or  just  before,  or  just  in  the  midst  of  unruly 
weather  ;  and  she  was  known  by  all  the  skippers 
and  voyagers  of  the  Hudson  by  the  name  of  "  the 
Storm  Ship," 


296  DOLPH  HEYLIGEU. 

These  reports  perplexed  the  governor  and  his 
council  more  than  ever ;  and  it  would  be  end 
less  to  repeat  the  conjectures  and  opinions  that 
were  uttered  on  the  subject.  Some  quoted 
cases  in  point  of  ships  seen  off  the  coast  of 
New-England  navigated  by  witches  and  gob 
lins.  Old  Hans  Van  Pelt,  who  had  been  more 
than  once  to  the  Dutch  colony  at  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  insisted  that  this  must  be  the  Fly 
ing  Dutchman,  which  had  so  long  haunted  Ta 
ble  Bay,  but  being  unable  to  make  port,  had 
now  sought  another  harbour.  Others  suggested 
that,  if  it  really  was  a  supernatural  apparition, 
as  there  was  every  natural  reason  to  believe, 
it  might  be  Hendrick  Hudson  and  his  crew  of 
the  Half  Moon ;  who,  it  was  well  known,  had 
once  run  aground  in  the  upper  part  of  the  river, 
in  seeking  a  north-west  passage  to  China.  This 
opinion  had  very  little  weight  with  the  governor ; 
but  it  passed  current  out  of  doors.  Indeed,  it 
had  already  been  reported  that  Hendrick  Hud 
son  and  his  crew  haunted  the  Kaatskill  Moun 
tain  ;  and  it  appeared  very  reasonable  to  sup- 


DOLFH  HEYLIGER.  297 

pose  that  his  ship  might  infest  the  river  where 
the  enterprise  was  baffled  ;  or  that  it  might  bear 
the  shadowy  crew  to  their  periodical  revels  in 
the  mountain. 

Other  events  occurred  to  occupy  the  thoughts 
and  doubts  of  the  sage  Wouter  and  his  council ; 
and  the  Storm  Ship  ceased  to  be  a  subject  of 
deliberation  at  the  board.  It  continued,  how 
ever,  to  be  a  matter  of  popular  belief  and  mar 
vellous  anecdote  throughout  the  whole  time  of 
the  Dutch  goverment ;  and  particularly  just  be 
fore  the  capture  of  New-Amsterdam,  and  the 
subjugation  of  the  province,  by  the  English 
squadron.  About  that  time  the  Storm  Ship 
was  repeatedly  seen  in  the  Tappaan  Zee ;  about 
Weehawk,  and  even  down  as  far  as  Hoboken, 
and  her  appearance  was  supposed  to  be  omi 
nous  of  the  approaching  squall  in  public  affairs, 
and  the  downfall  of  Dutch  domination. 

Since  that  time  we  have  no  authentic  ac-, 
counts  of  her,  though  it  is  said  she  still  haunts 
the  Highlands,  and  cruises  about  Point-no-point. 
People  who  live  along  the  river  insist  that  they 

VOL.  n.  38 


298  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

sometimes  see  her  in  summer  moonlight ;  and 
that  in  a  deep,  still  midnight,  they  have  heard 
the  chant  of  her  crew,  as  if  heaving  the  lead ; 
but  sights  and  sounds  are  so  deceptive  along 
the  mountainous  shores,  and  about  the  wide 
bays  and  long  reaches  of  this  great  river,  that 
I  confess  I  have  very  strong  doubts  upon  the 
subject. 

It  is  certain,  nevertheless,  that  strange  things 
have  been  seen  in  these  Highlands  in  storms, 
which  are  considered  as  connected  with  the  old 
story  of  the  ship.  The  captains  of  the  river 
craft  talk  of  a  little  bulbous-bottomed  Dutch 
goblin,  in  trunk  hose,  and  su gar-loaf 'd  hat,  with 
a  speaking  trumpet  in  his  hand ;  which  they  say 
keeps  about  the  Dunderberg  Mountain.  They 
declare  that  they  have  heard  him,  in  stormy 
weather,  in  the  midst  of  the  turmoil,  giving  orders 
in  low  Dutch  for  the  piping  up  of  a  fresh  gust  of 
wind,  or  the  rattling  off  of  another  thundfer  clap. 
That  sometimes  he  has  been  seen  surrounded  by 
a  crew  of  little  imps  in  broad  breeches  and  short 
doublets,  tumbling  head  over  heels  in  the  rack 


DOLPH  MEYLIGER. 


and  mist,  and  playing  a  thousand  gambols  in 
the  air  ;  or  buzzing  like  a  swarm  of  flies  about 
Antony's  Nose  ;  and  that,  at  such  time,  the 
hurry-scurry  of  the  storm  was  always  greatest. 
One  time  a  sloop,  in  passing  by  Dunderberg, 
was  overtaken  by  a  thundergust  that  came 
scouring  down  from  the  mountain,  and  seemed 
to  burst  just  over  the  vessel.  Though  tight  and 
well  ballasted,  yet  she  laboured  dreadfully  and 
rocked  until  the  water  came  over  the  gunwale. 
All  the  crew  were  amazed  ;  when  it  was  discover 
ed  that  there  was  a  little  white  sugar-loaf  hat  on 
the  mast  head  ;  W7hich  was  known  at  once  for 
the  hat  of  the  Heer  of  the  Dunderberg.  No 
body,  however,  dared  to  climb  to  the  mast  head 
and  get  rid  of  this  terrible  hat.  The  sloop  con 
tinued  labouring  and  rocking  as  if  she  would 
have  rolled  her  mast  overboard.  She  seemed 
in  continual  danger  either  of  upsetting  or  of  run 
ning  on  shore.  In  this  way  she  drove  quite 
through  the  Highlands,  until  she  had  passed 
PollopePs  Island  ;  where,  it  is  said,  the  jurisdic 
tion  of  the  Dunderberg  potentate  ceases.  No 


300  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

sooner  had  she  passed  this  bourne,  than  the  little 
hat  all  at  once  spun  up  into  the  air  like  a  top ; 
whirled  up  all  the  clouds  into  a  vortex;  and 
hurried  them  back  to  the  summit  of  the  Dunder- 
berg ;  while  the  sloop  righted  herself,  and  sailed 
on  as  quietly  as  if  in  a  mill-pond.  Nothing 
saved  her  from  utter  wreck  but  the  fortunate 
circumstance  of  having  a  horse  shoe  nailed 
against  the  mast ;  a  wise  precaution  against  evil 
spirits,  which  has  since  been  adopted  by  all  the 
Dutch  captains  that  navigate  this  haunted  river. 
There  is  another  story  told  of  this  foul  wea 
ther  urchin,  by  Skipper  Daniel  Ouslesticker  of 
Fishkill,  who  was  never  known  to  tell  a  lie. 
He  declared  that  in  a  severe  squall  he  saw  him 
seated  astride  of  his  bowsprit,  riding  the  sloop 
ashore,  full  butt,  against  Antony's  Nose, 
and  that  he  was  exorcised  by  Dominie  Van 
Gieson  of  Esopus,  who  happened  to  be  on 
board,  and  who  sung  the  hymn  of  St.  Nicholas ; 
whereupon  the  goblin  threw  himself  up  in  the 
air  like  a  ball,  and  went  off  in  a  whirlwind, 
carrying  away  with  him  the  nightcap  of  the 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  301 

dominie's  wife,  which  was  discovered  the  next 

/ 
Sunday  morning  hanging  on  the  weathercock 

of  Esopus  church  steeple,  at  least  forty  miles 
off!  After  several  events  of  this  kind  had  taken 
place  the  regular  skippers  of  the  river,  for  a 
long  time,  did  not  venture  to  pass  the  Dunder- 
berg  without  lowering  their  peak,  out  of  ho 
mage  to  the  Heer  of  the  Mountain  ;  and  it  was 
observed  that  all  such  as  paid  this  tribute  of  re 
spect  were  suffered  to  pass  unmolested. 


"  Such,"  said  Antony  Vander  Heyden,  "are 
a  few  of  the  stories  written  down  by  Selyn,  the 
poet,  concerning  this  Storm  Ship ;  which  he  af 
firms  to  have  brought  this  colony  of  mischievous 
imps  into  the  province  from  some  old  ghost-rid 
den  country  of  Europe.  I  could  give  you  a 
host  more  if  necessary ;  for  all  the  accidents 
that  so  often  befall  the  river  craft  in  the  High 
lands  are  said  to  be  tricks  played  off  by  these 


302  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

imps  of  the  Dunderberg;  but  I  see  that  you  are 
nodding,  so  let  us  turn  in  for  the  night." 

The  moon  had  now  just  raised  her  silver 
horns  above  the  round  back  of  old  Bull  Hill ; 
and  lit  up  the  gray  rocks  and  shagged  forests  ; 
and  glittered  on  the  waving  bosom  of  the  river. 
The  night  dew  was  falling,  and  the  late  gloomy 
mountains  began  to  soften  and  put  on  a  gray 
aerial  tint  in  the  dewy  light.  The  hunters  stir 
red  the  fire  and  threw  on  fresh  fuel  to  qualify 
the  damp  of  the  night  air.  They  then  pre 
pared  a  bed  of  branches  and  dry  leaves  under  a 
ledge  of  rocks  for  Dolph ;  while  Antony  Van- 
der  Heyden,  wrapping  himself  up  in  a  huge  coat 
made  of  skins,  stretched  himself  before  the  fire. 
It  was  some  time,  however,  before  Dolph 
could  close  his  eyes.  He  lay  contemplating  the 
strange  scene  before  him.  The  wild  wroods  and 
rocks  around ;  the  fire  throwing  fitful  gleams  on 
the  faces  of  the  sleeping  savages.  And  the  Heer 
Antony,  too,  who  so  singularly,  yet  vaguely,  re 
minded  him  of  the  nightly  visitant  to  the  Haunt 
ed  House.  Now  and  then  he  heard  the  cry  of 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  303 

some  animal  from  the  forest;  or  the  hooting  of 
the  owl ;  or  the  notes  of  the  whippoorwill  which 
seemed  to  abound  among  these  solitudes ;  or  the 
splash  of  a  sturgeon,  leaping  out  of  the  river, 
and  falling  back  full  length  on  its  placid  surface. 
He  contrasted  all  this  with  his  accustomed  nest 
in  the  garret  room  of  the  doctor's  mansion  ; 
where  the  only  sounds  he  heard  at  night  were 
the  church  clock  telling  the  hour  ;  the  drowsy 
voice  of  the  watchman  drawling  out  that  all  was 
well ;  the  deep  snoring  of  the  doctor's  clubbed 
nose  from  below  stairs  ;  or  the  cautious  labours 
of  some  carpenter  rat,  gnawing  in  the  wainscot. 

His  thoughts  then  wandered  to  his  poor  old 
mother :  what  would  she  think  of  his  myste 
rious  disappearance  ;  what  anxiety  and  distress 
would  she  not  suffer?  This  was  the  thought  that 
would  continually  intrude  itself  to  mar  his  pre 
sent  enjoyment.  It  brought  with  it  a  feeling  of 
pain  and  compunction,  and  he  fell  asleep  with 
the  tears  yet  standing  in  his  eyes. 

Were  this  a  mere  tale  of  fancy,  here  would 
be  a  fine  opportunity  for  weaving  in  strange  ad- 


304  DOLPH    HEYLIGER. 

ventures,  among  these  wild  mountains,  and  ro 
ving  hunters ;  and,  after  involving  my  hero  in 
a  variety  of  perils,  and  unheard-of  difficulties, 
rescuing  him  from  them  all  by  some  miracu 
lous  contrivance  ;  but  as  this  is  absolutely  a  true 
story,  I  must  content  myself  with  simple  facts, 
and  keep  to  probabilities. 

At  an  early  hour  of  the  next  day,  therefore,  af- 

• 

ter  a  hearty  morning's  meal,  the  encampment 
broke  up,  and  our  adventurers  embarked  in  the 
pinnace  of  Antony  Vander  Heyden.  There  being 
no  wind  for  the  sails,  the  Indians  rowed  her 
gently  along,  keeping  time  to  a  kind  of  chant 
of  one  of  the  white  men.  The  day  was  serene 
and  beautiful ;  the  river  without  a  wave ;  and 
as  the  vessel  cleft  the  glassy  water,  it  left  a  long 
undulating  track  behind.  The  crows  who  had 
scented  the  hunters'  banquet  were  already 
gathering  and  hovering  in  the  air,  just  where  a 
column  of  thin  blue  smoke,  rising  from  among 
the  trees,  showed  the  place  of  their  last  night's 
quarters.  As  they  coasted  along  the  bases  of 
the  mountains  the  Heer  Antony  pointed  out  to 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  305 

Dolph  a  bald  eagle,  the  sovereign  of  these  re 
gions,  who  sat  perched  on  a  dry  tree  that  pro 
jected   over  the  river ;  and  with  eye  turned  up 
wards,  seemed  to  be  drinking  in  the  splendour 
of  the  morning  sun.     Their  approach  disturbed 
the  monarch's  meditations.    He  first  spread  one 
wing,  and  then  the  other  ;  balanced  himself  for 
a  moment ;  and  then,  quitting  his  perch   with 
dignified  composure,  wheeled  slowly  over  their 
heads.     Dolph  snatched  up  a  gun,  and  sent  a 
whistling  ball  after  him,  that  cut  some  of  the 
feathers  from  his  wing ;  the  report  of  the  gun 
leaped  sharply  from  rock  to  rock,  and  awaken 
ed  a  thousand  echoes ;  but  the  monarch  of  the 
air  sailed  calmly  on,  ascending  higher  and  high 
er,  and  wheeling  widely  as  he  ascended  ;  soar 
ing  up  the  green  bosom  of  the  woody  mountain, 
until  he  disappeared  over  the  brow  of  a  beetling 
precipice.     Dolph  felt  in  a  manner  rebuked  "by 
this  proud  tranquillity,  and  almost  reproached 
himself  for  having  so   wantonly  insulted   this 
majestic  bird.    Heer  Antony  told  him,  laughing, 
to  remember  that  he  was  not  yet  out  of  the  ter- 
VOL.  n.  39 


306  DOLPH  HEYLIGElt. 

ritories  of  the  lord  of  the  Dunderberg ;  and  an  old 
Indian  shook  his  head,  and  observed  that  there 
was  bad  luck  in  killing  an  eagle ;  the  hunter,  on 
the  contrary,  should  always  leave  hirn  a  portion 
of  his  spoils. 

Nothing,  however,  occurred  to  molest  them 
on  their  voyage.  They  passed  pleasantly  through 
these  magnificent  and  lonely  scenes  until  they 
came  to  where  Pollopel's  Island  lies  like  a  float 
ing  bower  at  the  extremity  of  the  Highlands. 
Here  they  landed  until  the  heat  of  the  day  should 
abate,  or  a  breeze  spring  up  that  might  supersede 
the  labour  of  the  oar.  Some  prepared  the  mid 
day  meal,  while  others  reposed  under  the  shade 
of  the  trees  in  luxurious  summer  indolence ; 
looking  drowsily  forth  upon  the  beauty  of  the 
scene.  On  the  one  side  were  the  Highlands, 
vast  and  cragged,  feathered  to  the  top  with  fo 
rests,  and  throwing  their  shadows  on  the  glassy 
water  that  dimpled  at  their  feet ;  on  the  other 
side  was  a  wide  expanse  of  the  river,  like  a 
broad  lake,  with  long  sunny  reaches  and  green 
headlands  ;  and  the  distant  line  of  Shawungunk 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  307 

Mountains  waving  along  a  clear  horizon,  or  che 
quered  by  a  fleecy  cloud. 

But  I  forbear  to  dwell  on  the  particulars  of 
their  cruize  along  the  river.  This  vagrant  am 
phibious  life,  careering  across  silver  sheets  of 
water ;  coasting  wild  woodland  shores ;  ban- 
quetting  on  shady  promontories ;  with  the  spread 
ing  tree  overhead,  the  river  curling  its  light  foam 
to  one's  feet,  and  distant  mountain,  and  rock  and 
tree,  and  snowy  cloud,  and  deep  blue  sky,  all 
mingling  in  summer  beauty  before  one ;  all  this, 
though  never  cloying  in  the  enjoyment,  would 
be  but  tedious  in  narration. 

When  encamped  by  the  water  side,  some  of 
the  party  would  go  into  the  woods  and  hunt ; 
others  would  fish  ;  sometimes  they  would  amuse 
themselves  by  shooting  at  a  mark,  by  leaping,  by 
running,  by  wrestling ;  and  Dolph  gained  great 
favour  in  the  eyes  of  Antony  Vander  Hey  den, 
by  his  skill  and  adroitness  in  all  these  exercises, 
which  the  Heer  considered  as  the  highest  of 
manly  accomplishments. 


308  DOLPH  HEYLIGEK. 

Thus  did  they  coast  jollily  on,  choosing  only 
the  pleasant  hours  for  voyaging ;  sometimes  in 
the  cool  morning  dawn  ;  sometimes  in  the  sober 
evening  twilight ;  and  sometimes  when  the 
moonshine  spangled  the  crisp  curling  waves, 
that  whispered  along  the  sides  of  their  little  bark. 
Never  had  Dolph  felt  so  completely  in  his  ele 
ment  ;  never  had  he  met  with  any  thing  so  com- 
pletely  to  his  taste  as  this  wild,  hap-hazard  life. 
He  was  the  very  man  to  second  Antony  Vander 
Heyden  in  his  rambling  humours,  and  gained 
continually  on  his  affections.  The  heart  of  the 
old  bushwhacker  yearned  towards  the  young 
man,  who  seemed  thus  growing  up  in  his  own 
likeness  ;  and  as  they  approached  the  end  of  their 
voyage  he  could  not  help  inquiring  a  little  into 
his  history.  Dolph  frankly  told  him  his  course 
of  life,  his  severe  medical  studies,  his  little  profi 
ciency,  and  his  very  dubious  prospects.  The 
Heer  \vas  shocked  to  find  that  such  amazing 
talents  and  accomplishments  were  to  be  cramped 
and  buried  under  a  doctor's  wig.  He  had  a  so 
vereign  contempt  for  the  healing  art,  having  never 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  309 

had  any  other  physician  than  the  butcher.  He 
bore  a  mortal  grudge  to  all  kinds  of  study  also, 
ever  since  he  had  been  flogged  about  an  unintel 
ligible  book  when  he  was  a  boy.  But  to  think 
that  a  young  fellow  like  Dolph,  of  such  wonder 
ful  abilities,  who  could  shoot,  fish,  run,  jump, 
ride  and  wrestle,  should  be  obliged  to  roll  pills 
and  administer  juleps  for  a  living — 'twas  mon 
strous  !  He  told  Dolph  never  to  despair,  but  to 
"  throw  physic  to  the  dogs,"  for  a  young  fellow 
of  his  prodigious  talents  could  never  fail  to  make 
his  way.  "  As  you  seem  to  have  no  acquaintance 
in  Albany,"  said  Heer  Antony,  "  you  shall  go 
home  with  me,  and  remain  under  my  roof  until 
you  can  look  about  you  ;  and,  in  the  mean  timey 
we  can  take  an  occasional  bout  at  shooting  and 
fishing,  for  it  is  a  pity  such  talents  should  be 
idle." 

Dolph,  who  was  at  the  mercy  of  chance,  was 
not  hard  to  be  persuaded.  Indeed,  on  turning 
over  matters  in  his  mind,  which  he  did  very  sagely 
and  deliberately,  he  could  not  but  think  that  An 
tony  Vander  Heyden  was,  "  somehow  or  other,7' 


310  DOLPH  HEYLIGEK. 

connected  with  the  story  of  the  Haunted  House ; 
that  the  misadventure  in  the  Highlands  which 
had  thrown  them  so  strangely  together  was, 
"  somehow  or  other,"  to  work  out  something 
good  ;  in  short,  there  is  nothing  so  convenient  as 
this  "  somehow  or  other"  way  of  accommoda 
ting  one's  self  to  circumstances ;  it  is  the  main 
stay  of  a  heedless  actor  and  tardy  reasoner,  like 
Dolph  Heyliger  ;  and  he  who  can,  in  this  loose, 
easy  way,  link  foregone  evil  to  anticipated  good, 
possesses  a  secret  of  happiness  almost  equal  to 
the  philosopher's  stone. 

On  their  arrival  at  Albany,  the  sight  of  Dolph's 
companion  seemed  to  cause  universal  satisfac 
tion.  Many  were  the  greetings  at  the  river  side, 
and  the  salutations  in  the  streets ;  the  dogs 
bounded  before  him ;  the  boys  whooped  as  he 
passed ;  every  body  seemed  to  know  Antony 
Vander  Heyden.  Dolph  followed  on  in  silence, 
admiring  the  neatness  of  this  worthy  burgh  ;  for 
in  those  days  Albany  was  in  all  its  glory ;  inha 
bited  almost  exclusively  by  the  descendants  of 
the  original  Dutch  settlers ;  it  had  not  as  yet 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  311 

been  discovered  and  colonized  by  the  restless 
people  of  New-England.  Every  thing  was  quiet 
and  orderly  ;  every  thing  was  conducted  calmly 
and  leisurely.  No  hurry,  no  bustle  ;  no  strug 
gling  and  scrambling  for  existence.  The  grass 
grew  about  the  unpaved  streets,  and  relieved  the 
eye  by  its  refreshing  verdure.  Tall  sycamores, 
or  pendent  willows,  shaded  the  houses,  with  cat- 
terpillars  swinging  in  long  silken  strings  from 
their  branches,  or  moths  fluttering  about  like 
coxcombs,  in  joy  at  their  gay  transformation. 
The  houses  were  built  in  the  old  Dutch  style, 
with  the  gable  ends  towards  the  street.  The 
thrifty  housewife  was  seated  on  a  bench  before 
her  door,  in  a  close  crimped  cap,  bright  flowered 
gown  and  white  apron,  busily  employed  in  knit 
ting.  The  husband  smoked  his  pipe  on  the  op 
posite  bench,  and  the  little  pet  negro  girl,  seated 
on  the  step  at  her  mistress'  feet,  was  industri 
ously  plying  her  needle.  The  swallows  sported 
about  the  eaves,  or  skimmed  along  the  streets 
and  brought  back  some  rich  booty  for  their  cla 
morous  young  ;  and  the  little  housekeeping  wren 


312  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

flew  in  and  out  of  a  Lilliputian  house,  or  an  old 
hat  nailed  against  the  wall.  The  cows  were 
coming  home,  lowing  through  the  streets  to  be 
milked  at  their  owners'  doors,  and  if,  perchance, 
there  were  any  loiterers,  some  negro  urchin  with 
a  long  goad  was  gently  urging  them  homewards. 

As  Dolph's  companion  passed  on  he  received 
a  tranquil  .nod  from  the  burghers,  and  a  friendly 
word  from  their  wives;  all  calling  him  familiarly 
by  the  name  of  Anton j^,  for  it  was  the  custom 
in  this  strong  hold  of  the  patriarchs,  where  they 
had  all  grown  up  together  from  childhood,  to 
call  every  one  by  the  Christian  name.  The 
Heer  did  not  pause  to  have  his  usual  jokes  with 
them,  for  he  was  impatient  to  reach  his  home. 
At  length  they  arrived  at  his  mansion.  It  was 
of  some  magnitude,  in  the  Dutch  style,  with 
large  iron  figures  on  the  gables,  that  gave  the 
date  of  its  erection,  and  showed  that  it  had  been 
built  in  the  earliest  times  of  the  settlement. 

The  news  of  Heer  Antony's  arrival  had  pre 
ceded  him,  and  the  whole  household  was  on 
the  look  out.  A  crew  of  negroes,  large  and 


DOLFH  HEYLIGER.  313 

small,  had  collected  in  front  of  the  house  to  re 
ceive  him.  The  old  white-headed  ones,  who 
had  grown  gray  in  his  service,  grinned  for  joy, 
and  made  many  awkward  bows  and  grimaces ; 
and  the  little  ones  capered  about  his  knees.  But 
the  most  happy  being  in  the  household  was  a 
little,  plump,  blooming  lass,  his  only  child,  and 
the  darling  of  his  heart.  She  came  bounding 
out  of  the  house;  but  the  sight  of  a  strange 
young  man  with  her  father,  called  up  for  a  mo 
ment,  all  the  bashfulness  of  a  home-bred  damsel. 
Dolph  gazed  at  her  with  wonder  and  delight; 
never  had  he  seen,  as  he  thought,  any  thing  so 
comely  in  the  shape  of  woman.  She  was  dress 
ed  in  the  good  old  Dutch  taste,  with  long  stays 
and  full  short  petticoats,  so  admirably  adapted  to 
show  and  set  off  the  female  form.  Her  hair, 
turned  up  under  a  small  round  cap,  displayed 
the  fairness  of  her  forehead  ;  she  had  fine  blue 
laughing  eyes ;  a  trim,  slender  waist,  and  soft 
swel — —  but,  in  a  word,  she  was  a  little  Dutch 
divinity,  and  Dolph,  who  never  stopped  half 
VOL.  ii.  40 


314  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

way  in  a  new  impulse,  fell  desperately  in  love 
with  her. 

Dolph  was  now  ushered  into  the  house  with 
a  hearty  welcome.  In  the  interior  was  a  mingled 
display  of  Heer  Antony's  taste  and  habits,  and 
the  opulence  of  his  predecessors.  The  chambers 
were  furnished  with  good  old  carved  mahogany. 
The  beaufets  and  cupboards  glittered  with  em 
bossed  silver  and  painted  china.  Over  the  par 
lour  fireplace  was,  as  usual,  the  family  coat  of 
arms  painted  and  framed,  above  which  was  a 
long  duck  fowling  piece,  flanked  by  an  Indian 
pouch  and  a  powder-horn.  The  room  was  de 
corated  with  many  Indian  articles,  such  as  pipes 
of  peace,  tomahawks,  scalping  knives,  hunting 
pouches  and  belts  of  wampum,  and  there  were 
various  kinds  of  fishing  tackle,  and  two  or  three 
fowling  pieces  in  the  corners.  The  household 
affairs  seemed  to  be  conducted  in  some  measure 
after  the  master's  humours ;  corrected,  perhaps, 
by  a  little  quiet  management  of  the  daughter's. 
There  was  a  great  degree  of  patriarchal  simplici 
ty,  and  good. humoured  indulgence.  The  ne- 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  315 

groes  came  into  the  room  without  being  called, 
merely  to  look  at  their  master,  and  hear  of  his 
adventures ;  they  would  stand  listening  at  the 
door  until  he  had  finished  a  story,  and  then  go 
off  on  a  broad  grin,  to  repeat  it  in  the  kitchen. 
A  couple  of  pet  negro  children  were  playing 
about  the  floor  with  the  dogs,  and  sharing  with 
them  their  bread  and  butter.  All  the  domestics 
looked  hearty  and  happy  ;  and  when  the  table 
was  set  for  the  evening  repast,  the  variety  and 
abundance  of  good  household  luxuries  bore  tes 
timony  to  the  open  handed  liberality  of  the  Heer, 
and  the  notable  housewifery  of  his  daughter. 

In  the  evening  there  dropped  in  several  of  the 
worthies  of  the  place,  the  Van  Rennsellaers, 
and  the  Gansevoorts,  and  the  Rosebooms,  and 
others  of  Antony  Vander  Heyden's  intimates, 
to  hear  an  account  of  his  expedition  ;  for  he  was 
the  Sindbad  of  Albany,  and  his  exploits  and  ad 
ventures  were  favourite  topics  of  conversation 
among  the  inhabitants.  While  these  sat  gossip 
ing  together  about  the  door  of  the  hall,  and 
telling  long  twilight  stories,  Dolph  was  cosily 


316  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

seated,  entertaining  the  daughter  on  a  window 
bench.  He  had  already  got  on  intimate  terms, 
for  those  were  not  times  of  false  reserve  and 
idle  ceremony ;  and,  besides,  there  is  something 
wonderfully  propitious  to  a  lover's  suit  in  th$ 
delightful  dusk  of  a  long  summer  evening.  It 
gives  courage  to  the  most  timid  tongue,  and 
hides  the  blushes  of  the  bashful.  The  stars 
alone  twinkled  brightly,  and  now  and  then  a 
fire-fly  streamed  his  transient  light  before  the 
window ;  or,  wandering  into  the  room,  flew 
gleaming  about  the  ceiling. 

What  Dolph  whispered  in  her  ear  that  long 
summer  evening  it  is  impossible  to  say.  His 
words  were  so  low  and  indistinct  that  they  have 
never  reached  the  ear  of  the  historian.  It  is 
probable,  however,  that  they  were  to  the  pur 
pose,  for  he  had  a  natural  talent  at  pleasing  the 
sex,  and  was  never  long  in  company  with  a  pet 
ticoat  without  paying  proper  court  to  it.  In 
the  mean  time,  the  visiters,  one  by  one,  departed. 
Antony  Vander  Heyden,  who  had  fairly  talked 
himself  silent,  sat  nodding  alone  in  his  chair  by 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  317 

the  door,  when  he  was  suddenly  aroused  by  the 
hearty  salute  with  which  Dolph  Heyliger  had 
unguardedly  rounded  off  one  of  his  periods,  and 
which  echoed  through  the  still  chamber  like  the 
report  of  a  pistol.  The  Heer  started  up,  rubbed 
his  eyes,  called  for  lights,  and  observed  that  it 
was  high  time  to  go  to  bed.  On  parting  for  the 
night  he  squeezed  Dolph  heartily  by  the  hand ; 
looked  waggishly  in  his  face ;  shook  his  head 
knowingly — "  Ah,  Dolph  !  Dolph  1"  said  he, 
chuckling,  "  I  see  you're  a  sly  dog — -just  like  I 
was  at  your  age  !" 

The  chamber  in  which  our  hero  was  lodged 
was  spacious,  and  pannelled  with  oak.  It  was 
furnished  with  clothes  presses,  and  mighty  chests 
of  drawers,  well  waxed  and  glittering  with  brass 
ornaments.  These  contained  ample  stock  of 
family  linen  ;  for  the  Dutch  housewives  had  al 
ways  a  laudable  pride  in  showing  off  their  house 
hold  treasures  to  strangers. 

Dolph's  mind,  however,  was  too  full  to  take 
particular  note  of  the  objects  around  him ;  yet 
he  could  not  help  continually  comparing  the  free 


^318  DOLPH  HEYLIGEK. 

open-hearted  cheeriness  of  this^  establishment, 
with  the  starveling,  sordid,  joyless  housekeeping 
at  Doctor  Knypperhausen's.  Still,  there  was 
something  that  marred  the  enjoyment ;  the  idea 
that  he  must  take  leave  of  his  hearty  host,  and 
pretty  hostess,  and  cast  himself  once  more  adrift 
upon  the  world.  To  linger  here  would  be  folly. 
He  should  only  get  deeper  in  love ;  and  for  a 
poor  varlet,  like  himself,  to  aspire  to  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  great  Heer  Vander  Heyden — it  was 
madness  to  think  of  such  a  thing !  The  very 
kindness  that  the  girl  had  shown  towards  him, 
prompted  him,  on  reflection,  to  hasten  his  de 
parture  ;  it  would  be  a  poor  return  for  the  frank 
hospitality  of  his  host,  to  entangle  his  daughter's 
heart  in  an  injudicious  attachment.  In  a  word, 
Dolph  was  like  many  other  young  reasoners,  of 
exceeding  good  hearts,  and  giddy  heads,  who 
think  after  they  act,  and  act  differently  from  what 
they  think  ;  who  make  excellent  determinations 
over  night,  and  forget  to  keep  them  the  next 
morning. 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  319 

"  This  is  a  fine  conclusion,  truly,  of  my  voy 
age,"  said  he,  as  he  almost  buried  himself  in  a 
sumptuous  feather  bed,  and  drew  the  fresh  white 
sheets  up  to  his  chin.  "  Here  am  I,  instead  of 
finding  a  bag  of  money  to  carry  home,  launched 
in  a  strange  place,  with  scarcely  a  stiver  in  my 
pocket ;  and,  what  is  worse,  have  jumped  ashore 
up  to  my  very  ears  in  love  into  the  bargain. — 
However,"  added  he,  after  some  pause,  stretch 
ing  himself  and  turning  in  bed,  "  I'm  in  good 
quarters  for  the  present,  at  least ;  so  I'll  e'en 
enjoy  the  present  moment  and  let  the  next  take 
care  of  itself. — I  dare  say  all  will  work  out 
'some  how  or  other',  for  the  best." 

As  he  said  these  words  he  reached  out  his  hand 
to  extinguish  the  candle,  when  he  was  suddenly 
struck  with  astonishment  and  dismay,  for  he 
thought  he  beheld  the  spectre  of  the  Haunted 
House  staring  at  him  from  a  dusky  part  of  the 
chamber.  A  second  look  reassured  him  ;  as  he 
perceived  that  what  he  had  taken  for  the  spectre 
was  in  fact  nothing  but  a  Flemish  portrait  that 
hung  in  a  shadowy  corner,  just  behind  a  clothes 


320  DOLPH  HEYLIGER, 

press.  It  was,  however,  the  precise  representa 
tion,  of  his  nightly  visiter.  The  same  cloak  and 
belted  jerken  ;  the  same  grizzled  beard  and  fixed 
eye  ;  the  same  broad  slouched  hat,  with  a  feather 
hanging  over  one  side.  Dolph  now  called  to 
mind  the  resemblance  he  had  frequently  remark 
ed  between  his  host  and  the  old  man  of  the  Haunt 
ed  House,  and  was  fully  convinced  that  they  were 
in  some  way  connected,  and  that  some  especial 
destiny  had  governed  his  voyage.  He  lay  gazing 
on  the  portrait  with  almost  as  much  awe  as  he 
had  gazed  on  the  ghostly  original,  until  the 
shrill  house  clock  warned  him  of  the  lateness  of 
the  hour.  He  put  out  the  light ;  but  remained 
for  a  long  time  turning  over  these  curious  cir 
cumstances  and  coincidences  in  his  mind,  until 
he  fell  asleep.  His  dreams  partook  of  the  na 
ture  of  his  waking  thoughts.  He  fancied  that  he 
still  lay  gazing  on  the  picture  until  by  degrees 
it  became  animated  ;  that  the  figure  descended 
from  the  wall,  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 
That  he  followed  it  and  found  himself  by  the 
well,  to  which  the  old  man  pointed,  smiled  on 
him,  and  disappeared. 


r>OLPH  HEYLIGER.  321 

In  the  morning,  when  Dolph  waked,  he  found 
his  host  standing  by  his  bed  side,  who  gave  him 
a  hearty  morning's  salutation,  and  asked  him  how 
he  had  slept.  Dolph  answered  cheerily,  and  took 
the  occasion  to  inquire  about  the  portrait  that 
hung  against  the  wall.  "  Ah,"  said  Heer  An 
tony,  "  that's  a  portrait  of  old  Killian  Vanderspie- 
gel,  once  a  burgomaster  of  Amsterdam,  who,  on 
some  popular  troubles,  abandoned  Holland,  and 
came  over  to  the  province  during  the  govern 
ment  of  Peter  Stuyvesant.  He  was  my  ances 
tor  by  the  mother's  side,  and  an  old  miserly  cur 
mudgeon  he  was.  When  the  English  took 
possession  of  New- Amsterdam,  in  1664,  he  re 
tired  into  the  country.  He  fell  into  a  melan 
choly,  apprehending  that  his  wealth  would  be 
taken  from  him,  and  that  he  would  come  to 
beggary.  He  turned  all  his  property  into  cash, 
and  used  to  hide  it  away."*  He  was  for  a  year 
or  two  concealed  in  various  places,  fancying 
himself  sought  after  by  the  English,  to  strip  him 
of  his  wealth ;  and  finally  was  found  dead  in 
his  bed  one  morning,  without  any  one  being 

VOL.  H.  41 


322  DOLPH  HEYL1GEK. 

able  to  discover  where  he  had  concealed  the 
greater  part  of  his  money." 

When  his  host  had  left  the  room  Dolph  re 
mained  for  some  time  lost  in  thought.  His 
whole  mind  was  occupied  by  what  he  had 
heard.  Vanderspiegel  was  his  mother's  family 
name,  and  he  recollected  to  have  heard  her 
speak  of  this  very  Killian  Vanderspiegel  as  one 
of  her  ancestors.  He  had  heard  her  say,  too, 
that  her  father  was  Killian's  rightful  heir,  only 
that  the  old  man  died  without  leaving  any  thing 
to  be  inherited.  It  now  appeared  that  Heer 
Antony  was  likewise  a  descendant,  and,  per 
haps,  an  heir  also,  of  this  poor  old  rich  man ; 
and  that  thus  the  Heyligers  and  the  Vander 
Hey  dens  were  remotely  connected.  "  What," 
thought  he,  "  if  after  all  this  is  the  interpreta 
tion  of  my  dream j  that  this  is  the  way  I  am  to 
make  my  fortune  by  this  voyage  to  Albany; 
and  that  I  am  to  find  the  old  man's  hidden 
wealth  in  the  bottom  of  that  well  ?  But 
what  an  odd  round-about  mode  of  communica 
ting  the  matter  !  Why  the  vengeance  could  not 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  323 

the  old  goblin  have  told  me  about  the  well  at 
once,  without  sending  me  all  the  way  to  Al 
bany,  to  hear  a  story  that  was  to  send  me  all 
the  way  back  again  ?" 

These  thoughts  passed  through  his  mind  as 
he  was  dressing.  He  descended  the  stairs,  full 
of  perplexity,  when  the  bright  face  of  Marie 
Vander  Heyden  suddenly  beamed  in  smiles 
upon  him,  and  seemed  to  give  him  a  clue  to  the 
whole  mystery.  "  After  all,"  thought  he,  "the 
old  goblin  is  in  the  right.  If  am  to  get  his 
wealth  he  means  that  I  shall  marry  his  pretty 
descendant ;  thus  both  branches  of  the  family 
will  be  again  united,  and  the  property  go  on  in 
the  proper  channel." 

No  sooner  did  this  idea  enter  his  head  than  it 
carried  conviction  with  it.  He  was  now  all  im 
patience  to  hurry  back  and  secure  the  treasure ; 
which,  he  did  not  doubt,  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
the  well ;  and  which,  he  feared,  every  moment, 
might  be  discovered  by  some  other  person. 
"  Who  knows,"  thought  he,  "  but  this  night- 
walking  old  fellow  of  the  Haunted  House  may 


324  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

be  in  the  habit  of  haunting  every  visiter,  and  may 
give  a  hint  to  some  shrewder  fellow  than  myself, 
who  will  take  a  shorter  cut  to  the  well  than  by 
the  way  of  Albany  ?"  He  wished  a  thousand 
times  that  the  babbling  old  ghost  was 'laid  in  the 
Red  Sea,  and  his  rambling  portrait  with  him. 
He  was  in  a  perfect  fever  to  depart.  Two  or 
three  days  elapsed  before  any  opportunity  pre 
sented  for  returning  down  the  river.  They  were 
ages  to  Dolph,  notwithstanding  that  he  was 
basking  in  the  smiles  of  the  pretty  Marie,  and 
daily  getting  more  and  more  enamoured.  At 
length  the  very  sloop  from  \vhich  he  had  been 
knocked  overboard  prepared  to  make  sail.  Dolph 
made  an  awkward  apology  to  his  host  for  his 
sudden  departure.  Antony  Vaiider  Heyden  was 
sorely  astonished.  He  had  concerted  half  a 
dozen  excursions  into  the  wilderness,  and  his 
Indians  were  actually  preparing  for  a  grand  ex 
pedition  to  one  of  the  lakes.  He  took  Dolph 
aside,  and  exerted  his  eloquence  to  get  him  to 
give  up  all  thoughts  of  business  and  to  remain 
with  him  ;  but  in  vain  ;  and  he  at  length  gave 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  325 

up  the  attempt,  observing,  "  that  it  was  a  thou 
sand  pities  so  fine  a  young  man  should  throw 
himself  away."  Heer  Antony,  however,  gave 
him  a  hearty  shake  by  the  hand  at  parting,  with 
a  favourite  fowling  piece,  and  an  invitation  to 
come  to  his  house  whenever  he  revisited  Albany. 
The  pretty  little  Marie  said  nothing ;  but  as  he 
gave  her  a  farewell  kiss,  her  dimpled  cheek 
turned  pale,  and  a  tear  stood  in  her  eye. 

Dolph  sprang  lightly  on  board  of  the  vessel. 
They  hoisted  sail;  the  wind  was  fair;  they 
soon  lost  sight  of  Albany,  and  its  green  hills, 
and  embowered  islands.  They  were  wafted 
gaily  past  the  Kaatskill  mountains,  whose  fairy 
heights  were  bright  and  cloudless.  They  passed 
prosperously  through  the  Highlands,  without 
any  molestation  from  the  Dunderberg  goblin  and 
his  crew;  they  swept  on  across  Haverstraw 
Bay ;  and  by  Croton  Point ;  and  through  the 
Tappaan  Zee  ;  and  under  the  Pallisadoes  ;  until, 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day,  they  saw  the 
promontory  of  Hoboken  hanging  like  a  cloud  in 


326  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

the  air,  and,  shortly  after,  the  roofs  of  the  Man- 
hattoes  rising  out  of  the  water. 

Dolph's  first  care  was  to  repair  to  his  mother's 
house,  for  he  was  continually  goaded  by  the 
idea  of  the  uneasiness  she  must  experience  on 
his  account.  On  his  way  thither  he  endeavour 
ed  to  arrange  some  mode  of  accounting  for  his 
absence ;  but  felt  sadly  at  a  loss ;  for,  with  all  his 
heedlessness,  he  was  naturally  frank  and  sincere, 
and  had  never  deceived  her.  He  had  conned 
over  something  that  he  thought  would  do,  when, 
on  entering  the  street  in  which  her  house  was 
situated,  he  was  thunderstruck  on  beholding  it 
a  heap  of  ruins.  There  had  been  a  great  fire, 
which  had  destroyed  several  large  houses,  and 
the  humble  dwelling  of  poor  Dame  Heyliger  had 
been  involved  in  the  conflagration.  The  walls 
were  not  so  completely  destroyed  but  that  Dolph 
could  perceive  some  traces  of  the  scene  of  hum 
ble  quiet,  the  scene  of  his  childhood.  The  fire 
place  with  a  few  of  the  tiles  yet  remained, 
though  shattered  to  pieces.  The  wreck  of  the 
good  old  dame's  elbow  chair,  and  her  Dutch 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  327 

family  bible  reduced  almost  to  a  cinder  lay 
among  the  rubbish.  For  a  moment  Dolph's 
head  reeled ;  he  was  stunned  as  with  a  blow ; 
but  the  next  was  a  moment  of  excruciating 
agony,  for  the  idea  rushed  to  his  mind  that  she 
had  perished  in  the  flames.  He  was  relieved 
from  the  worst  of  his  fears,  by  one  of  the  neigh 
bours  who  informed  him  that  his  mother  was 
yet  alive,  but  that,  overcome  with  fright  and 
affliction,  she  lay  ill  at  the  house  of  old  Peter 
cle  Groodt,  where  she  had  taken  refuge 

Dolph  hastened  thither  with  the  penitent 
feeling  of  the  prodigal  son.  He  recalled  all 
her  tenderness,  her  unwearied  attention  to  his 
comfort ;  her  indulgence  of  his  errors ;  her 
fond  blindness  to  his  faults ;  and  then  he  re 
flected  on  his  own  idleness  and  want  of  con 
sideration.  "  Only  let  her  live,"  said  Dolph 
mentally,  and  clasping  his  hands,  "  and  I'll 
show  myself  indeed  a  son  !" 

He  found  old  Peter  de  Groodt  coming  out 
of  the  house.  Peter  started  back  on  seeing 
him,  and  was  for  a  moment  doubtful  whether 


323  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

it  was  not  a  ghost  that  stood  before  him.  Then 
shaking  his  head,  he  pointed  to  the  door.  "  Ah, 
young  man  !  young  man !  you're  in  a  hopeful 
way  truly ! — go  in,  go  in,  and  see  your  poor 
mother  more  sick  on  your  account  than  her 


own." 


It  required  some  preparation,  however,  before 
Dolph's  return  could  be  made  known  to  his 
mother,  and  even  then,  the  news  almost  over 
came  her.  When  he  was  admitted  to  see  her 
he  sunk  down  beside  her  bed.  The  poor  wo 
man  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck. — "My  boy 
— my  boy  !  art  thou  still  alive  ?"  For  a  time  she 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  her  losses  and 
troubles  in  her  joy  at  his  return.  At  length, 
recollecting  herself — "  ah,  my  poor  Dolph  !" 
said  she,  "  thy  mother  can  help  thee  no  longer ! 
She  can  no  longer  help  herself!  What  will 
become  of  thee,  my  poor  son !" 

"Mother,"  said  Dolph,  "don't  talk  in  that 
way.  I've  been  too  long  a  charge  upon  you; 
it's  now  my  part  to  take  care  of  you  in  your  old 
days.  But  come,  be  of  good  heart.  I'm  here 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  329 

again,  sound  and  hearty.  Something  will  yet 
turn  up — things  will  all  <  some  how  or  other'  turn 
out  for  the  best." 

As  the  hour  of  bed  time  approached,  Dolph 
sought  his  old  quarters  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Knyp- 
perhausen.  The  news  of  his  return  had  prece 
ded  him.  He  knocked  dubiously  at  the  door, 
when  the  doctor's  head  in  a  red  nightcap  pop 
ped  out  of  one  window,  and  the  housekeeper's, 
in  a  white  nightcap,  at  another.  Both  were  evi 
dently  primed  and  charged  for  the  occasion,  and 
such  a  volley  of  hard  names  and  hard  language 
did  they  discharge  upon  the  head  of  the  delinquent 
disciple,  that  in  a  few  minutes  not  a  window  in 
the  street  but  had  its  particular  nightcap.  Suf 
fice  it  to  say — the  doctor's  doors  were  forever 
closed  upon  him  ;  and  he  was  fain,  for  the  night, 
to  beg  a  lodging  under  the  same  roof  that  shelter 
ed  his  mother. 

The  next  morning,  bright  and  early,  Dolph 
was  out  at  the  Haunted  House.  Every  thing 
appeared  just  as  he  had  left  it.  The  fields  were 
grass-grown  and  matted,  and  it  appeared  as  if 

VOL.  IT.  42 


330  t)OLPH  HEYLIGER. 


no  body  had  traversed  them  since  his  departure. 
With  palpitating  heart  he  hastened  to  the  well. 
He  looked  down  into  it,  and  saw  that  it  was  of 
great  depth,  with  water  at  the  bottom.  He  had 
provided  himself  with  a  strong  line,  such  as  the 
fishermen  use  on  the  banks  of  Newfoundland. 
At  the  end  was  a  heavy  plummet  and  a  large 
fish  hook.  With  this  he  began  to  sound  the 
bottom  of  the  well,  and  to  angle  about  in  the 
water.  He  found  that  the  water  was  of  some 
depth ;  there  appeared  also  to  be  much  rubbish  ; 
stones  from  the  top  having  fallen  in.  Several 
times  his  hook  got  entangled,  and  he  came  near 
breaking  his  line.  Now  and  then,  too,  he  haul 
ed  up  mere  trash,  such  as  the  skull  of  a  horse, 
an  iron  hoop,  and  a  shattered  iron-bound  bucket. 
He  had  now  been  for  several  hours  employed 
without  finding  any  thing  to  repay  his  trouble 
or  to  encourage  him  to  proceed.  He  began  to 
think  himself  a  great  fool,  to  be  thus  decoyed  in 
to  a  wild  goose  chase  by  mere  dreams,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  throwing  line  and  all  into  the  well, 
and  giving  up  all  farther  angling.  "  One  more 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  33f 

cast  of  the  line,"  said  he,  "  and  that  shall  be  the 
last !"  As  he  sounded,  he  felt  the  plummet  slip 
as  it  were  through  the  insterstices  of  loose 
stones ;  and,  as  he  drew  back  the  line,  he  felt 
that  the  hook  had  taken  hold  of  something  heavy. 
He  had  to  manage  his  line  with  great  caution  lest 
it  should  be  broken  by  the  strain  upon  it.  By  de 
grees  the  rubbish  that  lay  upon  the  article  wrhich 
he  had  hooked  gave  way ;  he  drew  it  to  the 
surface  of  the  wrater,  and  what  was  his  rapture 
at  seeing  something  like  silver  glittering  at  the 
end  of  his  line  !  Almost  breathless  with  anxiety, 
he  drew  it  up  to  the  mouth  of  the  well,  surprised 
at  its  great  weight,  and  fearing  every  instant  that 
his  hook  would  slip  from  its  hold,  and  his  prize 
tumble  again  to  the  bottom.  At  length  he  land 
ed  it  safe  beside  the  well.  It  was  a  great  silver 
porringer,  of  an  ancient  form,  richly  embossed, 
and  with  armorial  bearings  similar  to  those  over 
his  mother's  mantlepiece,  engraved  on  its  side. 
The  lid  was  fastened  down  by  several  twists  of 
wire.  Dolph  loosened  them  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  on  lifting  the  lid,  behold  !  the  vessel 


332  1>OLPH  HEYLIGER. 

was  filled  with  broad  golden  pieces,  of  a  coinage 
which  he  had  never  seen  before  !  It  was  evi 
dent  he  had  lit  on  the  place  where  old  Killian 
Vanderspiegel  had  concealed  his  treasure. 

Fearful  of  being  seen  by  some  straggler,  he 
cautiously  retired,  and  buried  his  pot  of  money 
in  a  secret  place.  He  now  spread  terrible  sto 
nes  about  the  Haunted  House,  and  deterred 
every  one  from  approaching  it ;  while  he  made 
frequent  visits  to  it,  in  stormy  days,  when  no  one 
was  stirring  in  the  neighbouring  fields  ;  though, 
to  tell  the  truth,  he  did  not  care  to  venture  there 
in  the  dark.  For  once  in  his  life  he  was  dili 
gent  and  industrious ;  and  followed  up  his  new 
trade  of  angling  with  such  perseverance  and 
success,  that  in  a  little  while  he  had  hooked  up 
wealth  enough  to  make  him,  in  those  moderate 
days,  a  rich  burgher  for  life. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  detail  minutely  the 
rest  of  his  story.  To  tell  how  he  gradually 
managed  to  bring  his  property  into  use  without 
exciting  surprise  and  inquiry.  How  he  satis 
fied  all  scruples  with  regard  to  retaining  the  pro- 


• 

DOLPH  HEYLIGER*  333 

perty,  and  at  the  same  time  gratified  his  own 
feelings  by  marrying  the  pretty  Marie  Vander 
Hey  den,  and  how  he  and  Heer  Antony  had 
many  a  merry  and  roving  expedition  together. 

I  must  not  omit  to  say,  however,  that  Dolph 
took  his  mother  home  to  live  with  him,  and  che 
rished  her  in  her  old  days.  The  good  dame,  too, 
had  the  satisfaction  of  no  longer  hearing  her  son 
made  the  theme  of  censure  ;.  on  the  contrary,  he 
grew  daily  in  public  esteem  ;  every  body  spoke 
well  of  him  and  his  wines ;  and  the  lordliest 
burgomaster  was  never  known  to  decline  his  in 
vitation  to  dinner.  Dolph  often  related,  at  his 
own  table,  the  wicked  pranks  which  had  once 
been  the  abhorence  of  the  town;  but  they  were 
now  considered  excellent  jokes,  and  the  gravest 
dignitary  was  ready  to  die  with  laughing  at  them. 
No  one  was  more  struck  with  Dolph's  increa 
sing  merit  than  his  old  master  the  Doctor ;  and 
so  forgiving  was  Dolph  in  his  temper,  that  he 
absolutely  employed  the  Doctor  as  his  family 
physician;  only  taking  care  that  his  prescrip 
tions  should  alwavs  be  thrown  out  of  the  win- 


334  DOLPH  HEYLIOER. 

dow.  His  mother  had  often  her  junto  of  old 
cronies  to  take  a  snug  cup  of  tea  with  her  in  her 
comfortable  little  parlour ;  and  Peter  de  Groodt, 
as  he  sat  by  the  fire  side,  with  one  of  her  grand 
children  on  his  knee,  would  many  a  time  con 
gratulate  her  upon  her  son's  turning  out  so  great 
a  man ;  upon  which  the  good  old  soul  would 
wag  her  head  with  exultation,  and  exclaim,  "Ah 
neighbour!  neighbour!  did  I  not  say  that  Dolph 
would  one  day  or  other  hold  up  his  head  with 
the  best  of  them  ?" 

Thus  did  Dolph  Heyliger  go  on,  cheerily 
and  prosperously,  growing  merrier  as  he  grew 
older  and  wiser,  and  completely  falsifying  the 
old  proverb,  about  money  got  over  the  devil's 
back;  for  he  made  good  use  of  his  wealth,  and 
became  a  distinguished  citizen,  and  a  valuable 
member  of  the  community.  He  was  a  great 
promoter  of  public  institutions,  such  as  beef 
steak  societies,  and  catch  clubs.  He  presided 
at  all  public  dinners,  and  was  the  first  that  in 
troduced  turtle  from  the  West  Indies.  He  im 
proved  the  breed  of  race  horses,  and  game  cocks : 


DOLPH  HEYLIGER.  335 

he  was  a  great  patron  of  modest  merit,  inso 
much  that  any  one  who  could  sing  a  good  song, 
or  tell  a  good  story,  was  sure  to  find  a  place  at 
his  table ;  and  his  benevolence  became  so  well 
known,  that  every  now  and  then  a  bantling  was 
laid  at  his  door ;  which  he  never  failed  to  take 
into  the  house  and  cherish  as  his  own. 

He  was  a  member  too  of  the  corporation,  made 
several  laws  for  the  protection  of  game  and  oys 
ters,  and  bequeathed  to  the  board  a  large  silver 
punch  bowl,  made  out  of  the  identical  porringer 
before  mentioned,  and  which  is  in  the  possession 
of  the  corporation  to  this  very  day. 

Finally,  he  died,  at  a  florid  and  jolly  old  age, 
of  an  apoplexy  at  a  corporation  feast,  and  was 
buried  with  great  honours,  in  the  yard  of  the  lit 
tle  Dutch  church  in  Garden  Street,  where  his 
tomb-stone  may  still  be  seen,  with  an  epitaph  in 
Dutch  verse,  by  his  friend  Mynheer  Justus  Ben 
son,  an  ancient  and  excellent  poet  of  the  Man- 
hattoes. 

The  foregoing  tale  rests  on  better  authority 
than  most  tales  of  the  kind,  as  I  have  it  at  second 


336  DOLPH  HEYLIGER. 

hand  from  the  lips  of  Dolph  Hejliger  himself. 
He  never  related  it  until  towards  the  latter  part 
of  his  life,  and  then  in  great  confidence,  (for  he 
was  very  discreet,)  to  a  few  particular  cronies  at 
his  own  table,  over  an  extra  bowl  of  punch ; 
and  strange  as  the  hobgoblin  parts  of  the  story 
may  seem,  there  never  was  a  single  doubt  ex 
pressed  on  the  subject  by  any  of  his  guests.  It 
may  not  be  amiss,  before  concluding,  to  observe, 
that  in  addition  to  his  other  accomplishments. 
Dolph  Heyliger  was  noted  for  being  the  ablest 
drawer  of  the  long  bow  in  the  whole  province. 


THE    WEDDING. 


No  more,  no  more ;  much  honor  aye  betide 
The  lofty  bridegroom,  and  the  lovely  bride; 
That  their  succeeding  days  and  years  may  say 
Each  day  appears  like  to  a  marriage  day. 

BRAITHTTAITE 


THE  fair  Julia    having  recovered    from  the 
effects  of  her  fall,  the  day  for  the  wedding  was 
at  length  appointed.     As  it  drew  near,  there  rose 
several  doubts  and  conversations  between  Ladj 
Lilly  craft,  Master  Simon,  and  the  parson,  on  the 
subject  of  marrying  in  the  month    of   May ; 
against  which  I  find  there  is  an  ancient  preju 
dice,  as  being  an  unfortunate  month  for  matri 
mony.     From  the  discussions  that  took  place 
on  these  occasions,  I  picked  up  much  valuable 
information  relative  to  weddings.     Such  as,  that 
if  there  were  two  celebrated  in  the  same  church, 
TOL.  n.  43 


338  THE  WEDDING. 

on  the  same  day,  the  first  would  be  happy,  the 
second  otherwise.  If,  in  going  to  church,  they 
should  meet  the  funeral  of  a  female,  the  bride 
would  die  first ;  if  of  a  male,  the  bridegroom. 
If  the  new  married  couple  were  to  dance  toge 
ther  on  their  wedding  day,  the  wife  would 
thenceforth  rule  the  roast ;  with  many  more  cu 
rious  facts  of  the  same  kind  ;  which  made  me 
ponder,  more  than  ever,  upon  the  perils  which 
surround  this  happy  state  ;  and  how  little  men 
know  the  awful  risks  they  run  in  venturing  upon 
it.  I  abstain,  however,  from  enlarging  on  this 
topic,  as  I  have  no  wish  to  promote  the  increase 
of  bachelors. 

The  Squire,  however,  though  he  gave  due 
weight  to  all  these  ancient  saws,  yet  had  a  host 
of  poetical  authorities  in  favour  of  this  loving 
month,  which  I  suppose  were  conclusive  with 
the  young  couple,  as  I  found  they  were  perfectly 
willing  to  marry  in  May,  and  abide  the  conse 
quences. 

The  wedding  has  accordingly  taken  place  at 
the  village  church,  in  presence  of  a  numerous 


THE  WEDDING.  339 

company  of  relations  and  friends,  and  many  of 
the  tenantry.  The  Squire  must  needs  have 
something  of  the  old  ceremonies  observed  on  the 
occasion  ;  so,  at  the  gate  of  the  church -yurd, 
several  little  girls  of  the  village,  dressed  in  white, 
were  in  readiness  with  baskets  of  flowers,  which 
they  strewed  before  the  bride,  and  the  butler 
bore  before  her  the  bride  cup,  a  great  embossed 
silver  bowl,  one  of  the  family  reliques  from  the 
days  of  the  hard  drinkers.  This  was  filled  with 
rich  wine,  and  decorated  with  a  branch  of  rose 
mary  tied  with  gay  ribbands,  according  to  an 
cient  custom. 

"  Happy  is  the  bride  that  the  sun  shines  on," 
says  the  old  proverb ;  and  it  was  as  sunny  and 
auspicious  a  morning  as  heart  could  wish.  The 
bride  looked  uncommonly  beautiful ;  but  in 
fact  what  woman  does  not  look  interesting  on  her 
wedding  day?  There  is  something  extremely 
touching  in  the  appearance  of  a  young  and  timid 
bride,  in  her  robes  of  virgin  white,  led  up  trem 
bling  to  the  altar ;  when  thus  I  behold  a  lovely 
girl,  in  the  tenderness  of  her  years,  forsaking  her 


340  THE  WEDDING. 

father's  house  and  the  home  of  her  childhood, 
and  giving  herself  up  with  implicit  confiding  to 
the  man  of  her  choice,  in  the  good  old  language 
of  the  ceremony,  "for  better  for  worse,  for 
richer  for  poorer,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  to 
love,  honour,  and  obey,  till  death  us  do  part." 
It  brings  to  my  mind  the  beautiful  self  devotion 
of  Ruth,  "  whither  thou  goest  I  will  go,  and 
where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge  ;  thy  people  shall 
be  my  people,  and  thy  god  my  god." 

The  fair  Julia  was  supported  on  the  trying 
occasion  by  Lady  Lillycraft,  whose  heart  was 
overflowing  with  its  wonted  sympathy  in  all 
matters  of  love  and  matrimony.  As  the  bride 
approached  the  altar,  her  face  would  be  one  mo 
ment  covered  with  blushes,  and  the  next  deadly 
pale,  and  she  seemed  almost  ready  to  shrink  from 
sight  among  her  female  companions.  I  do  not 
know  what  it  is  that  makes  every  one  serious 
and,  as  it  were,  awe  struck,  at  a  marriage  cere 
mony  ;  which  is  generally  considered  as  an  oc 
casion  of  festivity  and  rejoicing.  As  the  cere 
mony  was  performing,  I  observed  many  a  rosy 


THE  WEDDING.  341 

face  among  the  country  girls  turn  pale,  and  I 
did  not  see  a  smile  throughout  the  church.  The 
young  ladies  from  the  Hall  were  almost  as  much 
frightened  as  if  it  had  been  their  own  case,  and 
stole  many  a  look  of  sympathy  at  their  trembling 
companion.  A  tear  stood  in  the  eye  of  the  sen 
sitive  Lady  Lillycraft ;  and  as  to  Phoebe  Wilkins, 
who  was  present,  the  soft  hearted  baggage  abso 
lutely  wept  and  sobbed  aloud  ;  but  it  is  hard  to 
tell,  half  the  time,  what  these  fond  foolish  crea 
tures  are  crying  about. 

The  captain,  too,  though  naturally  gay  and 
unconcerned,  was  much  agitated  on  the  occa- 
*  sion,  and  in  attempting  to  put  the  ring  upon  the 
bride's  finger,  dropped  it  on  the  floor,  which  I  am 
since  told  is  a  very  lucky  omen.  Even  Master 
Simon  had  lost  his  usual  vivacity,  and  had  as 
sumed  a  most  whimsically  solemn  face,  which 
he  is  apt  to  do  on  all  occasions  of  ceremony. 
He  had  much  whispering  with  the  parson  and 
parish  clerk,  for  he  is  always  a  busy  personage 
in  the  scene ;  and  he  echoed  the  clerk's  amen 
with  a  solemnity  and  devotion  that  edified  the 
whole  assemblage. 


342  THE  WEDDING. 

The  moment,  however,  that  the  ceremony 
was  over,  the  transition  was  magical.  The 
bride  cup  was  passed  round,  according  to  an 
cient  usage,  for  the  company  to  drink  to  a 
happy  union ;  every  one's  feelings  seemed  to 
break  forth  from  restraint ;  Master  Simon  had  a 
world  of  bachelor  pleasantries  to  utter ;  and 
as  to  the  gallant  general,  he  bowed  and  cooed 
about  the  dulcet  Lady  Lillycraft  like  a  mighty 
cock  pigeon  about  his  dame. 

The  villagers  gathered  in  the  church-yard  to 
cheer  the  happy  couple  as  they  left  the  church, 
and  the  musical  tailor  had  marshalled  his  band, 
and  set  up  a  hideous  discord,  as  the  blushing 
and  smiling  bride  passed  through  a  lane  of  ho 
nest  peasantry  to  her  carriage.  The  children 
shouted  and  threw  up  their  hats  ;  the  bells  rang 
a  merry  peal  that  threatened  to  bring  down  the 
battlements  of  the  old  tower,  and  set  all  the 
crows  and  rooks  flying  and  cawing  about  the 
air;  and  there  was  a  continual  popping  off  of 
•rusty  firelocks  from  every  part  of  the  neigh 
bourhood. 


THE  WEDDING.  343 

The  prodigal  son  distinguished  himself  on 
the  occasion  ;  but  had  nearly  done  mischief;  as 
the  horses  of  the  bride's  carriage  took  fright 
from  the  discharge  of  a  row  of  old  gun  barrels 
which  he  had  mounted  as  a  park  of  artillery  in 
front  of  the  school  house,  to  give  the  captain  a 
military  salute  as  he  passed. 

The  day  passed  off  with  great  rustic  rejoi 
cings.  Tables  were  spread  under  the  trees  in 
the  park,  where  all  the  peasantry  of  the  neigh 
bourhood  were  regaled  with  roast  beef  and 
plum  pudding,  and  oceans  of  ale.  Ready  Mo 
ney  Jack  presided  at  one  of  the  tables,  and  be 
came  so  full  of  good  cheer,  as  to  unbend  from 
his  usual  gravity,  sing  a  song  out  of  all  tune, 
and  give  two  or  three  shouts  of  laughter  that 
almost  electrified  his  neighbours  like  so  ma 
ny  peals  of  thunder.  Slingsby,  the  school 
master,  and  the  apothecary,  vied  with  each 
other  in  making  speeches  over  their  liquor,  and 
there  were  occasional  glees  and  musical  per 
formances  by  the  village  band  that  must  have 


344  THE  WEDDING. 

frightened     every  fawn  and    dryad   from   the 
park. 

Old  Christy,  even,  was  warmed  into  a  flow  on 
the  occasion.  He  appeared  newly  equipped 
from  top  to  toe ;  with  bright  leather  breeches, 
and  a  great  wedding  favour  flaunting  in  his 
jockey  cap.  The  old  man  drank  health  and 
happiness  to  the  young  couple  at  least  a  dozen 
times ;  and  ended  by  dancing  a  hornpipe  on 
one  of  the  tables,  to  the  great  astonishment  of 
the  whole  world. 

Equal  gayety  reigned  within  doors,  where  a 
large  party  of  friends  were  entertained.  Every 
one  laughed  at  his  own  pleasantry  without  at 
tending  to  that  of  his  neighbour's.  The  bride 
cup  was  carried  about  according  to  ancient  form, 
and  loads  of  bride  cake  distributed.  The  young 
ladies  were  all  busy  in  passing  morsels  of  cake 
through  the  wedding  ring,  to  dream  on ;  and  I 
myself  assisted  a  fine  little  boarding  school  girl 
in  putting  up  a  quantity  for  her  companions, 
which  I  have  no  doubt  will  set  all  the  little 
heads  in  the  school  gadding,  for  a  week  to  come. 


THE  WEDDING  346 

In  the  evening  we  were  entertained  by  a  dis 
play  of  fire-works  got  up  by  the  schoolmaster 
and  apothecary  with  the  assistance  of  the  pro 
digal  son  ;  whom  the  Squire  talks  of  making  his 
gamekeeper,  by  way  of  reward  for  his  extraor 
dinary  services.  The  village  also  was  generally 
illuminated,  excepting  the  house  of  the  radical, 
who  has  not  shown  his  face  during  the  rejoi 


cings. 


One  wedding  makes  many,  says  an  old  pro 
verb,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  it  holds 
good  in  the  present  instance.  I  have  seen  seve 
ral  flirtations  among  the  young  people  that  have 
been  brought  together  on  this  occasion.  Mas 
ter  Simon,  however,  has  told  me  in  great  confi 
dence,  that  he  thinks  the  old  general's  case  is 
desperate  with  Lady  Lillycraft ;  she  having  de 
termined  that  he  is  quite  destitute  of  sentiment. 

It  is  with  some  concern,  therefore,  that  I  have 
seen  him  throwing  away  tender  glances  upon 
her  at  the  wredding  dinner,  during  the  changing 
of  the  dishes. 

I  am  told,  moreover,   that  young  Jack  Tib- 

VOL.  ii.  44 


346  THE  WEDDING. 

bets  was  so  touched  by  the  wedding  ceremony, 
at  which  he  was  present,  and  captivated  by  the 
sensibility  of  poor  Phoebe  Wilkins,  that  he  had 
a  reconcilation  with  her  that  very  day  after  din 
ner,  in  one  of  the  groves  of  the  park,  and  danced 
with  her  at  the  village  in  the  evening,  to  the 
complete  confusion  of  old  Dame  Tibbets' 
domestic  politics. 

What  is  more,  Lady  Lillycraft,  who  with  her 
usual  benevolence  in  all  concerns  of  the  heart, 
had  lately  taken  an  interest  in  this  love  affair, 
on  hearing  of  the  reconciliation  of  the  lovers, 
undertook  the  critical  task  of  breaking  the  mat 
ter  to  Ready  Money  Jack.  She  thought  there 
was  no  time  like  the  present,  and  attacked  the 
sturdy  old  yeoman  that  very  evening  in  the  park, 
while  his  heart  was  yet  lifted  up  with  the  Squire's 
good  cheer.  Jack  was  a  little  surprised  at  being 
drawn  aside  by  her  ladyship,  but  was  not  to  be 
flurried  by  such  an -honour;  he  was  still  more 
surprised  by  the  nature  of  her  communication ; 
and  this  first  intelligence  of  an  affair  that  had 
been  passing  under  his  eye.  He  listened,  how- 


THE  WEDDING.  547 

ever,  with  his  usual  gravity,  as  her  ladyship  re 
presented  the  advantages  of  the  match,  the  good 
qualities  of  the  girl,  and  the  distress  which  all 
parties  had  lately  suffered  ;  at  length  his  eye  be 
gan  to  kindle,  and  his  hand  to  play  with  the 
head  of  his  cudgel.  Lady  Lillycraft  saw  that 
.something  in  the  narrative  had  gone  wrong, 
and  hastened  to  mollify  his  rising  ire,  by  re 
iterating  the  soft  hearted  Phoebe's  merit  and 
fidelity,  and  her  great  unhappiness ;  when  old 
Ready  Money  suddenly  interrupted  her  by 
exclaiming,  that  "  if  Jack  did  not  marry  the 
wench,  he'd  break  every  bone  in  his  body !" 
The  match,  therefore,  is  considered  a  settled 
thing  ;  Dame  Tibbets  and  the  housekeeper  have 
made  friends  and  drank  tea  together,  and  Phoebe 
has  again  recovered  her  good  looks  and  good 
spirits,  and  is  caroling  from  morning  till  night 
like  a  lark. 

But  the  most  whimsical  caprice  of  Cupid  is 
one  that  I  should  be  almost  afraid  to  mention, 
did  I  not  know  that  I  was  writing  for  readers 
well  experienced  in  the  waywardness  of  this 


348  THE  WEDDING. 

most  mischievous  deity.  The  morning  after 
the  wedding,  therefore,  while  Lady  Lillycraft 
was  making  preparations  for  her  departure,  an 
audience  was  requested  by  her  immaculate  hand 
maid,  Mrs.  Hannah,  who,  with  much  primming 
of  the  mouth,  and  many  maidenly  hesitations, 
requested  leave  to  stay  behind,  and  that  Lady. 
Lillycraft  would  supply  her  place  with  some 
other  servant.  Her  ladyship  was  thunderstruck  : 
"  What,  Hannah  going  to  quit  her  that  had  lived 
with  her  so  long  !" 

"  Why,  one  could  not  help  it ;  one  must  set 
tle  in  life  some  time  or  other." 

The  good  lady  was  still  lost  in  amazement ; 
at  length  the  secret  was  gasped  from  the  dry 
lips  of  the  maiden  gentlewoman  ;  she  "  had  been 
some  time  thinking  of  changing  her  condition, 
and  at  length  had  given  her  word  last  evening 
to  Mr.  Christy,  the  huntsman !" 

How,  or  when,  or  where,  this  singular  court 
ship  had  been  carried  on,  I  have  not  been  able  to 
learn ;  or  how  she  has  been  able,  with  the  vine 
gar  of  her  disposition,  to  soften  the  stony  heart 


THE  WEDDING.  349 

of  old  Nimrod.  So,  however,  it  is,  and  it  has 
astonished  every  one.  With  all  her  ladyship's 
love  of  match  making,  this  last  fume  of  Hy 
men's  torch  has  been  too  much  for  her.  She 
has  endeavoured  to  reason  with  Mrs.  Hannah, 
but  all  in  vain ;  her  mind  was  made  up,  and  she 
grew  tart  on  the  least  contradiction.  Lady  Lil- 
lycraft  applied  to  the  Squire  for  his  interference  : 
"  She  did  not  know  what  she  should  do  without 
Mrs.  Hannah,  she  had  been  used  to  have  her 
about  her  so  long  a  time." 

The  Squire,  on  the  contrary,  rejoiced  in  the 
match,  as  relieving  the  good  lady  from  a  kind  of 
toilette  tyrant,  under  whose  sway  she  had  suffer 
ed  for  years.  Instead  of  thwarting  the  affair, 
therefore,  he  has  given  it  his  full  countenance, 
and  declares,  that  he  will  set  up  the  young 
couple  in  one  of  the  best  cottages  on  his  estate. 

The  approbation  of  the  Squire  has  been  fol 
lowed  by  that  of  the  whole  household  ;  they  all 
declare,  that  if  ever  matches  are  really  made  in 
Heaven,  this  must  have  been ;  for  that  old 
Christy  and  Mrs.  Hannah  were  as  cordially 


, 


350  THE  WEDDING. 

formed  to  be  linked  together  as  ever  were  pep- 

JT  box  and  vinegar  cruet. 

is  soon  as  this  matter  was  arranged,  Lady 
Lilly#iaft  took  her  leave  of  the  family  at  the 
Hall,  taking  with  her  the  captain  and  his  blush 
ing  bride,  who  are  to  pass  the  honey-moon  with 
her.  Master  Simon  accompanied  them  on 
horseback,  and  indeed  means  to  ride  on  a  head 
to  make  preparations.  The  general,  who  was 
fishing  in  vain  for  an  invitation  to  her  seat, 
handed  her  ladyship  into  her  carriage  with  a 
heavy  sigh;  upon  which  his  bosom  friend,  Mas 
ter  Simon,  who  was  just  mounting  his  horse, 
gave  me  a  knowing  wink,  made  an  abominably 
wry  face,  and  leaning  from  his  saddle  whispered 
loudly  in  my  ear,  "  It  wont  do !"  Then  put 
ting  spurs  to  his  horse,  away  he  cantered  off. 
The  general  stood  for  some  time  waving  his 
hat  after  the  carriage  as  it  rolled  down  the 
avenue,  until  he  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  sneez 
ing  from  exposing  his  head  to  the  cool  breeze. 

The  company  have    now  almost   all  taken 
their  departure.     I  have  determined  to  do  the 


THE  WEDDING.  351 

same  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  hope  my  reader 
may  not  think  that  I  have  already  lingered  too 
long  at  the  Ball.  I  have  been  tempted  to  do  so, 
however,  because  I  thought  I  had  lit  upon  one 
of  the  retired  places  where  there  are  yet  some 
traces  to  be  met  with  of  old  English  character. 

A  little  while  hence,  and  all  these  will  have 
passed  away. 

Ready  money  Jack  will  sleep  with  his  fathers 
The  good  Squire  and  all  his  peculiarities 
will  be  buried  in  the  parish  church.  The  old 
Hall  will  be  modernized  into  a  fashionable 
country  seat,  or  perad venture  a  manufactory. 
'The  park  will  be  cut  up  into  kitchen  gardens. 
A  daily  coach  will  run  through  the  village,  and 
it  will  become  like  all  other  commonplace  villa 
ges,  thronged  with  coachmen,  post-boys,  tip 
plers  and  politicians ;  and  Christmas,  May-day, 
and  all  their  hearty  merry-makings  will  be 
forgotten ! 

THE    END. 


' 


£\  i--. 


